Everything Keeps Changing
by get-a-grip38
Summary: Sucre is injured, and they don't know where Sara is, so Michael and Lincoln abduct a doctor while trying to avoid being captured, or killed. Rated T. Begins during Disconnect. Final chapter is up!
1. Chapter 1

Summary: Sucre is hurt, so Michael and Lincoln abduct a doctor, adding to their list of felonies. Rated T for violence, language. It's not any worse than the actual show, so...

Note: The italics are a flashback. I only started watching Prison Break recently, so there may be some inaccuracies, and for those, I apologize. I am also very aware that this is not at all how the events following Bolshoi Booze transpired, which leads us to the…

…Disclaimer: I don't own Prison Break.

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"He's bleedin' pretty bad, Mike." Lincoln said, pressing a rag against Sucre's back.

Sucre made to stand. "It ain't nothin', man." He insisted, as Lincoln forced him back down.

"Take deep breaths. Relax." Lincoln ordered.

Sucre forced a laugh. "If you were me, would you be relaxed?" There was a pause, as

Sucre took several deep, shaky breaths. Lincoln stood, and walked over to where Michael stood, starring at the men who laid lifelessly.

"So many…" The younger brother murmured. "So many… for what?"

"Michael!" Lincoln snapped, grabbing Michael's arm. "Sucre needs a doctor, now."

Michael turned his head towards Lincoln slightly. "Sara." He whispered. "We get Sara, and she can help Sucre."

"He needs a doctor now, Michael!"

"Guys, guys, how am I supposed to relax with you two fightin' like this?" Sucre asked, interrupting their argument. Both brothers were silent. "Now," Sucre continued, "call Sara, Michael. See where she is."

Lincoln glanced at Sucre, then at his brother. Michael slid his cell phone into his hand, and dialed the familiar number.

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_After Mahone had stumbled across them just after Bolshoi Booze, Michael, Lincoln, and Sucre had decided that the agent probably knew or guessed that they would attempt to fly out of the country. And if the agent had known about Bolshoi Booze, it wasn't a big jump to consider that Mahone knew all about the plane as well. From the makeshift grave, the trio had driven somberly west for several hours, finally stopping in a small town for gas and food a little after nine at night. Michael remained outside, filling the tank, while Sucre and Lincoln and Sucre went inside to pay and buy the food._

"_You boys from around here?" The middle-aged clerk asked, scanning their purchases._

"_Not really." Lincoln replied, when Sucre didn't._

"_What'cha doin' in a place like this, then?" The man inquired. Sucre shrugged, and the clerk fell temporarily silent. "Cash or credit?" He asked a moment later._

"_Cash." Lincoln answered, placing a twenty on the counter._

_The clerk picked it up, and pressed several buttons on the register. He frowned, and pressed the keys again. "Devil machine's actin' up again." The clerk smiled reassuringly. "Ernie!" He shouted. To them, he said, "Don't worry; Ernie'll get you your change."_

_While they waited, Lincoln glanced around, trying not to appear as anxious as he felt. He wished that they had gotten a little closer to their destination before being forced to stop. Lincoln knew that they would drive through the night. Michael remained confident that missing the plane was a minor setback, that they could cross the border on the ground and then continue with Michael's plan, but only if they kept moving. Lincoln glanced at a stack of newspapers, curious to see what was going on in the world. That was one of the disadvantages of being on the run; he didn't exactly have time to do anything but protect himself and LJ and Michael. Sucre too, but the Puerto Rican didn't need anyone to look out for him; he could take care of himself. Michael, on the other hand, was a completely different story. It was a good thing that Michael was usually a normal, law-abiding citizen, because he made a terrible criminal. Lincoln considered this for a moment, before concluding that this was because Michael, unlike say T-Bags, had a conscious._

_Lincoln's eyes grew wide as his gaze settled on a paper flyer that was taped to the wall. 'Fox River 8 Still At Large!' The flyer read. Beneath the heading were pictures and descriptions of himself, along with all the other escapees. Lincoln glanced anxiously at the clerk, who was calling for Ernie again._

"_You know what, the change doesn't matter." Lincoln said, deciding that he and Sucre needed to get out of there as soon as they could without arising suspicion._

_The clerk glanced up. "Oh, don't you worry, it'll just be a moment. Ernie probably just dozed off again. Ernie!"_

"_Yeah man. It'll just be a minute." Sucre repeated to Lincoln, giving him a questioning look. Lincoln tilted his head slightly towards the flyer. Sucre looked at it, seeming uneasy. The clerk, perceiving their sudden anxiety, followed Sucre's gaze._

"_Oh, don't you worry 'bout them. They won't make it this far south…" The clerk trailed off, looking back at the men. "Oh my… ERNIE!"_

_As one, Sucre and Lincoln turned and strode quickly towards the exit. "Oh no you don't!" The clerk shouted after them. "ERNIE!"_

_Someone tackled Lincoln, knocking the wind out of him. He struggled to breathe for a few seconds, before series of quick punches knocked into him. The beating subsided as man slammed into Lincoln's assailant. Lincoln quickly climbed to his feet to see Michael rolling on the ground with a man who was presumably Ernie. Seeing that Michael seemed to have him under control, Lincoln turned to Sucre, who was wrestling with the clerk. Sucre knocked him back over the counter with a forceful blow, and he and Lincoln turned their attention to Michael, who was now on the receiving end of the beating. Michael yelped as a fist encountered his stomach. Lincoln's blood boiled; it was his job to protect his younger brother! Something in the man snapped, and he pulled his gun out of his belt, and fired once, twice into Ernie's back. Ernie fell gracelessly to the ground, bleeding rapidly onto the filthy tiles._

_Lincoln lowered his weapon, assessing the damage to Michael. The younger brother didn't appear to have suffered any serious damage, so Lincoln helped him to his feet. Lincoln raised the gun again when Sucre screamed. He fired three times in quick succession at the clerk, who was standing next to Sucre now, digging a knife into the Latin man's back. The clerk collapsed against the counter, blood pouring out of a bullet's entry wound in his head._

_Lincoln leapt over a stack of soda to reach Sucre. He and Michael lowered Sucre carefully to the ground, despite his protests. "I'm fine, hombres! Let me go!" Sucre said. Lincoln reached out, to remove the knife, but Michael's hand stopped him._

_Michael shook his head. "You're never supposed to remove the object. If the knife hit an artery or vein, it's keeping him from bleeding out. The knife could be keeping him alive." Lincoln glanced at him, before nodding. It made sense. He stooped down to examine Sucre's wound. Michael turned to where the clerk's corpse was positioned haphazardly against the register counter, biting his lip. "He didn't deserve to die." Michael whispered._

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"Sara, it's me." Michael said. "If you're there, if you can hear this, it's very important for you to answer." He paused, waiting. Lincoln sighed, and moved down an aisle, searching for bandages. "Sara, are you there? Sara, I-" Michael stopped suddenly, and snapped his phone shut. "She didn't answer."

"There was a sign, for a hospital, about twenty minutes back." Lincoln suggested. "He's stabbed pretty good, Mike, he needs stitches at least."

Michael stared at nothing in particular, trying to decide what to do. "None of us can go in a hospital." He commented, a moment later.

Lincoln nodded. "No."

"We'd have to take someone with us, for a bit."

"Yeah."

"I don't like this."

"We have to do what we have to do, Michael."

"I know."

"Help me carry him to the car." Lincoln instructed, carefully lifting Sucre's shoulders.

"Please don't drop me!" Sucre moaned.

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Please review!


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2!

Disclaimer: I don't own Prison Break.

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Lincoln drove the car back towards the hospital while Michael sat in the back with Sucre. "It doesn't look too bad." Michael said, trying to be comforting.

Sucre grinned weakly. "Oh, sure. I'm fine, I just can't stop bleeding. You know, I've been betrayed before, but never literally stabbed in the back."

Michael returned the smile. "Don't talk so much. Save your energy." Sucre started to counter that, but thought better of it and remained silent.

"We're about five minutes out." Lincoln announced. Michael nodded.

"Hang on." He ordered Sucre.

"You ain't getting rid of me that easily." Sucre retorted. Michael smirked faintly.

Suddenly, Lincoln swore sharply and brought the car to an abrupt halt on the side of the road. "Why are we stopping?" Michael questioned, looking at Lincoln in the rearview mirror. Lincoln's dark eyes stared back at him.

"Wait." Was the older man's response. Seconds later, a police car sped past them, sirens blaring. They continued on after a moment, but were forced to stop again less than a minute later by an ambulance. They repeated this process three more times for a second ambulance and two more police cars. It took almost ten minutes for all of this to transpire, and by now, Sucre wasn't trying to crack jokes anymore.

"How's he doing?" Lincoln asked, looking back at them.

Michael glanced a Sucre, who was lying on the seat, eyes shut, then back at his brother. "He's okay." Michael replied, but shook his head. Lincoln nodded, and increased their speed.

Ten minutes after that, they stopped in the back of the parking lot of the hospital. "Michael… I don't feel so great." Sucre moaned, eyes still shut.

"I know." Michael replied.

"Very tired… and a little dizzy."

"Don't worry. We're at the hospital." Michael said, consolingly, as Sucre began praying fervently under his breath in Spanish.

Lincoln swore again, without warning. Michael looked up at him questioningly. Lincoln pointed to the entrance to the emergency room, where two ambulances and three police cars were parked. Michael swore also. "The goddamned county morgue must be here." Lincoln said. Michael nodded. "What now? Sucre is going to die if he doesn't see a doctor real soon."

"Go park about a block away." Michael instructed, the beginnings of a plan starting to form. Lincoln obliged, Sucre muttering in the back about Maricruz.

The car came to a stop in front of a drugstore that appeared to be closed for the night. Lincoln pulled the keys out of the ignition and turned to face Michael expectantly.

"One of us runs to the hospital, to the entrance. Doctors and nurses are always coming and going. We find one, and explain that our friend is bleeding and we ran out of gas. Persuade them to come, out of their own free will. They stitch up Sucre, and depending on how that goes, we'll take the doctor back or take him with us." Michael said, outlining his plan.

Lincoln nodded. "It's good, but it's risky."

"Which ever one of us goes might not come back."

"One of us goes back to jail or dies. And then Sucre dies."

"And then Sucre dies." Michael repeated. Both of them glanced at the Puerto Rican, who was looking oddly pale. Michael looked back at Lincoln. "I know it's a lot to ask, more than I have a right to ask for, but would you be willing to go so that I can stay with him? In case…"

Lincoln nodded, cutting him off. "I'll go." He handed the keys to Michael and opened the door, stepping out. "I'll be back."

Michael nodded gratefully. "Thank you, Lincoln."

"I still owe you one." Lincoln replied gruffly, referring to how Michael spared him the death penalty. He shut the door, and took off at a run towards the hospital.

It only took a few minutes for Lincoln to reach the hospital. The emergency vehicles were still parked in front of the entrance to the emergency room, so Lincoln stood a couple yards away from them, out of the light. He began to pace as the minutes ticked by. Lincoln glanced at his watch. It was a little after ten. What if the shifts didn't end until eleven, and he had to wait almost an hour before somebody came out? By then, Lincoln knew that Sucre would be dead and his own security could very well be compromised. He kicked a wall in frustration.

Fortunately for Lincoln, at approximately ten twenty, a blonde woman slowly trudged out of the building, a plain messenger bag slung across her slumping shoulders. "Excuse me!" Lincoln called frantically. She turned towards him.

"What?" She asked, perhaps a bit more sharply than the situation called for. Lincoln noticed that all signs of weariness had abruptly vanished.

"My friend. He's bleeding badly."

"Where is he?"

"In the car."

"So help him inside. They can take care of him there."

"No, no, our car broke down a block from here, and we're afraid to move him. He has a knife stuck in his back." Lincoln insisted.

"Look, you're just going to have to take him inside. They'll have to do x-rays, run some tests to make sure that the knife didn't hit or sever anything important." The woman replied firmly.

Lincoln glanced at the doors, and saw two police officers walking down the hall, away from the busy emergency room lobby towards their cars. He turned his attention back towards the woman. "Are you a doctor?" The blonde nodded. "Please, he's bleeding. We can't get him in here in time. He'll die."

There was a paused as the woman considered Lincoln. She sighed. "All right. I'll sew him up, but then I'm gone. I just got off a thirty-six hour shift. Let me go get supplies…" The woman said, caving in. Lincoln nodded, moving back into the shadows as the police left the building.

A few minutes later, she returned, pulling on a white coat. "Got it." She said. "Let's go."

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Back in the car, Michael was staring at Sucre, who still had his eyes shut. "Michael?" Sucre called out.

"I'm here." Michael replied, unmoving.

"I'm dying, aren't I?"

Michael was silent for a moment. "We're finding a doctor."

"You didn't answer my question."

"Don't talk. Save your energy. Lincoln went to go get a doctor right now."

"Michael, please, tell me."

Michael gave a frustrated sigh. "It doesn't look so good right now, Fernando. But Lincoln'll be back any minute with someone who can help."

"I'm dying anyway, and you all are risking exposure to try and save me. I'm touched, really." Sucre said, mustering a slight eye roll. "It means a lot that you would do this for me, but I think you both better go. Just leave me here, and go on."

Michael raised an eyebrow. "They say that drowning is one of the worst ways to die, and if I went through so much effort to spare you that death, I'm not going to let you die so soon."

Sucre gave a weak laugh, before falling silent. A few moments later, he spoke again. "If Lincoln doesn't get back in time, or for whatever reason I go anyway, can you give a message from me to Maricruz?"

Michael nodded. "Sure." He added, when he realized that Sucre's eyes were still shut.

Sucre swallowed hard. "Tell her that I love her, and I love the baby, and that I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything." His voice cracked a bit from emotion at the end.

"I'm not telling her that." Michael said.

Sucre opened one eye in shock. "What?! You said you'd give her my message. That's my message!"

Michael grinned faintly. "I'm not telling her. You are." Sucre lifted his head slightly, and saw Lincoln sprinting back towards the car. A woman wearing a white coat was close behind him.


	3. Chapter 3

Here's Chapter 3! Please Review.

I know that the point of the show is that Lincoln is not a murderer, that he never killed anybody, so I imagine that it could seem rather strange that he so casually kills two people in chapter one. Trust me, while he appears casual about it on the outside, it's tearing him up on the inside. You'll see some of that in the next chapter.

One last thing before the story. Over three hundred people have at least clicked on my story, according to my hit counter, and yet I only have one review. Thank you to the one person who left a review! Your review was truely appreciated (and not just because you didn't say that I suck :) ). To the other three hundred of you, reviews really make my day. I don't want to beg for reviews, but please? Thanks.

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As Alex Mahone sped down the deserted freeway, his cell phone began to ring. He slowed down slightly as he answered. "Mahone." A pause. "I see. I'll be right there." Mahone snapped his cell phone shut, and put it back in the cup holder, smiling.

A moment later, it rang again. "Mahone." He said, not bothering to conceal his glee.

"You sound awfully cheerful."

"Mr. Kim! I wasn't expecting your call for-"

"Give me an update. For your ex-wife's sake, I hope it's good news."

The smile slid off Mahone's face. "I do have good news." Alex replied icily. "They were on a plane brought down by us five minutes ago."

"Who is believed to have been on board?"

"Scofield, Burrows, and Sucre."

"Call me when you know more." The line clicked, and Alex slowly lowered his cell phone.

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Michael pushed the door open. "Help him out of the car." The woman ordered, putting her stethoscope on.

Michael and Lincoln looked at each other. Michael then shook his head. "No. He stays in the car." He said, softly.

"It's too tight in there. I can't do anything for him unless you get him out!"

Sucre groaned. Everyone turned to look at him. The doctor looked back at the brothers, hands resting on her hips. "Get him out of the car, or I'm gone."

Michael gave an irritated sigh. "There's plenty of room in there. Just do what you can."

"He is going to die. You know that, right? He is going to die if I don't treat him immediately." The woman snapped. Michael and Lincoln glanced at each other again, then started to help the Latin man out of the vehicle. "Is there a blanket or something in there?" The doctor asked.

"Maybe in the trunk." Lincoln replied, voice strained from Sucre's weight. The woman nodded, and opened the trunk. She found a plastic tarp, and spread it out in front of the car. "Sit him up here, and turn on the headlights so I can see what the hell I'm doing." She ordered. Lincoln helped prop Sucre up while Michael turned the car on.

"All right. Uh- what's his name?" The doctor asked, looking up at Michael and Lincoln.

"He said his name's Fernando." Michael answered guardedly. "We found him by the side of the road, just like this."

"Mmhmm." The woman said. "Okay, Fernando, I'm Dr. Curtis. Try and take some deep breaths for me." She added, in a much kinder tone. She moved her stethoscope around his chest and then his back. "How long have you been bleeding, Fernando?" Dr. Curtis asked.

"Um… what time is it?"

"Twenty to eleven."

"A while." Sucre replied, wincing.

"I'm pulling the knife out, Fernando." Dr. Curtis announced. "You. In the hat. Press this against the wound when I take the knife out." She tossed Michael a sterile towel. He knelt down next to her, positioned to apply pressure. Sucre cried out in pain as Dr. Curtis eased the pocketknife out of his back. Michael quickly pressed the towel to Sucre's back. "Press harder!" The doctor snapped. Only Michael's concern for Sucre kept him from commenting on her bedside manner. She pulled out a vial of peroxide and began to clean the cut.

"Keep talking to me, Fernando." The doctor ordered. "Where you from?"

"Puerto Rico." Sucre gasped.

"You got a girlfriend?" She asked. Sucre nodded. "What's her name?"

"Maricruz."

"It's time to stitch you up now. I'm not going to lie; it's going to hurt. I can't administer anesthesia without a complete medical background, and since you two found him on the side of the road, I doubt you know it." Dr. Curtis said, pausing, almost daring Michael or Lincoln to change their story. "You." The doctor nodded towards Lincoln. "Hold his arm. You hold his other arm." The brothers took hold of Sucre's muscular arms. "Tell me about your girlfriend." There was silence. The woman glanced at Michael. "Fernando? Can you hear me?" Sucre had shut his eyes again. "Fernando, I need you to stay with me. Focus. Open your eyes for me." Sucre reluctantly opened one eye, then the other.

"I'm so tired." He whispered.

"I know. I'm going to help you. Tell me about Maricruz. What's she like?"

Sucre began to talk. After a couple of seconds, Dr. Curtis started to sew. The Puerto Rican screamed, and Michael and Lincoln struggled to hold him still. "How did you and Maricruz meet?" Dr. Curtis asked, through clenched teeth. Sucre nodded faintly, and started talking in a very strained voice.

Twenty-five stitches later, Michael and Lincoln sat in the car while Dr. Curtis finished checking Sucre over. Michael turned the radio on.

"Do you think it's possible that she doesn't recognize us?" Michael asked, clearly believing that it was too good to be true, as he fiddled with the radio.

Lincoln shrugged. "Maybe." Michael settled on a news station. "Michael, there's no way that they're going to trace the gas station to us."

"I know. I want to hear about the plane." Both brothers fell silent as the announcer began to discuss the news.

"The search for the Fox River 8 may be drawing to a close. A plane that is believed to have been carrying several of the escapees crashed near the U.S.-Mexican border this evening. Authorities are still confirming who was on board.

"In more local news, a privately owned gas station was robbed today. Three men with guns were seen on security cameras killing two employees. DNA tests of blood samples are being performed to attempt to identify the gunmen. People in the area are encouraged to be on the lookout for a black sedan, which the men may have been driving, with license plate number…" Neither Michael nor Lincoln heard the rest as they exchanged worried looks.

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When Mahone arrived on the scene, it was swarming with police and fire vehicles. He quickly exited his vehicle, and sought out the head policeman. "What do you have for me, Sergeant?" Alex asked, flashing his ID.

"One man was on board sir. He died instantly from a broken neck upon impact." The portly policeman replied.

"Only one man?" Alex questioned, eyes wild. The man nodded. "Who was on board?" Alex prayed silently that it was one of the Fox River eight.

"A Mexican. Didn't ID as any of the escapees, sir." The officer answered.

Mahone turned and swore loudly. "You're sure there was no one else?" He asked, turning back to the cop, who nodded.

"Positive, sir."

"No one parachuted out?" The sergeant shook his head. Alex gave a frustrated sigh, and began to walk back to his car. The agent opened his phone, and dialed. "This is Mahone. I need you to find me everything on anyone any of the prisoners may have been close to. I need locations, criminal records, everything. Anyone they may be partial to." Mahone hung up without warning, and slid the phone back into his pocket. He had just gotten in when his cell phone rang.

"Mahone!" He snapped.

"Mr. Mahone, this is Sergeant Merriman, of the Minan-Hatford police. A gas station was robbed today in Minan, and two men were killed."

"I really don't have time for this sort of thing."

"With all due respect, I think you do, sir."

"Oh? Why's that?"

"Because blood found from one of the assailants checked out as Fernando Sucre's, one of the Fox River Eight." The officer replied.

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Outside, Dr. Curtis was trying to convince Fernando to come to the hospital, just for a little bit, to get some blood and rest. "If one of those men did this, you should talk to the police." Dr. Curtis said.

Sucre gave her an odd look, before shaking his head. "They didn't stab me." He insisted. The woman shrugged as the car doors open.

She turned towards Lincoln and Michael. "What are you going to do with Fernando?" Dr. Curtis asked.

"We'll find him a hotel room somewhere, so he can rest." Michael said, leaning against the car.

The doctor considered this before nodding. "He's lost a lot of blood. He's going to be pretty weak for the next couple days, but as his blood begins to be naturally replenished, he'll get better. As long as the wound doesn't get infected, it should heal in anywhere from one to two weeks. He shouldn't get it wet; there's a bandage on it, but he needs to be careful when he showers. Fernando will need to have his stitches removed in no more than two weeks." Dr. Curtis explained. "Any questions?"

"Yeah." Michael replied. "What do you know about the Fox River 8?"

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Thanks for reading. The purplish review button is right over there (points to down and to the left).


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 3! Thanks to a recommendation from a reviewer, I have enabled anonymous reviews. I'm not quite sure what I think about this chapter, but it's pretty long. Sara makes a bit of an appearance in this chapter; she'll be having a role in upcoming chapters.

As always, review please!

Disclaimer: Nope, I still don't own Prison Break.

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"_What do you know about the Fox River Eight?" Michael asked._

The doctor frowned. "What does that have to do-"

"What do you know?" Michael repeated sharply, stepping towards her.

"Not much."

"Why?"

"I'm a second year surgical resident. I don't have _any_ free time."

"Oh." There was a pause. "What do you know?"

Dr. Curtis shrugged. "Eight men escaped from a prison. From a place called Fox River?" Michael nodded. "As far as I know, they're still out there."

"That's not very much."

"No." She agreed.

"Michael." Lincoln called, from the passenger's seat. Michael turned, and walked back to the car. "We got a problem. They identified blood on the floor as Sucre's." Michael rested his hands on the window, feeling his control slipping away again.

"What do you think we should do?" Michael asked his brother.

"We have to take her with us." Lincoln replied, without hesitating. "Word'll be all over here by morning that some of us are out here. She'll tell everything she knows to the feds, and by then, we won't be far enough away." Michael gazed off, doubtful. "I know you don't want to, Michael. But we don't have any options here." Michael glanced at Lincoln, then at the doctor, who was watching them.

He turned back to Lincoln. "All right." Michael returned to where Sucre was sitting, and helped him up. The bigger man was leaning heavily on Michael. "You got a car back at the hospital?" Michael asked the woman. She nodded. "We'll give you a ride then."

"That's really not necessary."

"It's on our way. Consider it our payment." Michael replied, giving a charming grin. The doctor hesitated, before nodding uneasily. Michael escorted her back to the car, and opened one of the second row doors for her.

"Thank you." She murmured, as she got in. Glancing to her left, the doctor realized that Lincoln was in the back with her. Trying to remain calm, she watched as Michael helped Sucre into the passenger seat and then got into the driver seat. Then they drove away.

"The driveway's right there on the left." Dr. Curtis commented, a moment later. The vehicle didn't slow down, and they quickly passed the hospital. "Excuse me, you missed the turn. It's right back there." Again, no attention. "Let me out!" The doctor insisted, voice rising. When this received no response from any of the men, Dr. Curtis reached for her door handle. The door opened just a few inches before strong arms wrapped around her and pulled her backwards.

She was aware that she was laying on Lincoln, that one of his arms was across her collarbone and that another was wrapped around her stomach. "Let me go!" Dr. Curtis cried, struggling. She thrashed back and forth and dug her fingernails into the arm around her neck, but to no avail. The man didn't slacken his hold at all. The doctor kept yelling, screaming, making noise. Lincoln shifted the hand that was on her stomach to cover her mouth, muffling her sound.

"Be quiet." Lincoln ordered, softly. "I am not going to kill you. I won't hurt you in any way, unless you force me to by doing stuff like what you just tried. None of us will. You need to do as we say, and keep quiet. Do you think you can handle that?" He asked. The doctor stared up at him with fear filled eyes, before nodding. "Good." Lincoln removed the hand on her mouth, and set her up straight. The doctor pulled back, leaning against the now locked door.

After a few moments of silence, Dr. Curtis spoke. "Where are we going?" She asked.

"Don't worry about it." Lincoln said. "That's another thing: don't ask questions. The less you know, the better."

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After driving for six hours, Alex Mahone pulled up in front of Minan-Hatford Hospital. He quickly showed his badge to the receptionist, who pointed him towards an office.

As Mahone entered the office, badge visible, he nodded. "Gentlemen. I hear you have some news for me."

The man in the white coat nodded. "I'm Dr. Carl Milton, Head of the ER, and this is chief of police, Robert Handle." Alex nodded at both men in turn. "At approximately ten seventeen this evening, two middle-aged men were brought in, already dead. Both were wearing uniforms of a local gas station, and had died of gunshot wounds."

"Later, police ran some DNA tests on blood found on the scene of the crime. The test came back saying it was Fernando Sucre's blood, so we called the feds." The police chief continued.

"You did the right thing." Mahone remarked absentmindedly. "Do you have anything else?"

"Yeah. Here's the security tape, and info about their car." The policeman added, handing Alex a tape and a piece of paper. Mahone took them eagerly.

"Thank you gentlemen. You've been of great help." He said genuinely.

"One more thing, Mr. Mahone." The policeman said, hesitantly. "I'm no doctor, but this Sucre fellow had a lot of blood at the scene. He was bleedin' pretty badly. I think he'll need to find medical treatment pretty soon."

Mahone considered this for a moment, before nodding.

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Hundreds of miles away, Sara Trancredi was in a 24-hour drug store. She had two containers of hair dye in her hands, and she was biting her lip slightly. _Blonde or black,_ she mused. _Light colors stand out, dark colors fade in._ With that, Sara put the blonde dye back on the shelf and added the black dye to her basket, which already contained a variety of items including scissors, a pocketknife, protein bars, and some necessities.

She walked over to the register, tugging her baseball cap down lower. The young woman at the register blew a bubble with her gum, popped it, and started ringing up her purchases.

Twenty minutes later, Sara was back in her hotel room. She washed her hair, and then pulled out the scissors. Sara told herself that she was snipping her old life away. In the morning, she would contact a former prisoner that hadn't hated her too badly to obtain fake identification, under a new name. Then, she would drive north for a while, to somewhere near Seattle. She'd always wanted to go to Seattle, see the space needle, find out if it really did rain all the time there. Sara would find an apartment, or a small house there, and then search for a job. It would be virtually impossible for her to work as a doctor again, because it just wasn't possible to fake credentials like that. Maybe she'd try something new; like being an interior designer. Or maybe she'd find work at a free clinic, as a knowledgeable aide, if not a doctor. She had all the opportunities in the world to blend in, disappear, and never be seen by federal agents ever again.

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Hours later, the car pulled to a lazy stop in front of a cheap-looking motel called the Pink Sunset. Michael turned back to look at the doctor and Lincoln. "This is where we stop tonight." He said. "Dr. Curtis, you are going to go inside and get a room with two beds, then come back out. We'll pay in cash in the morning."

The woman looked first at Michael, then at Lincoln. "Are you kidding me? What is this, a kidnapping?"

"For now, you're going to stay with us." Michael answered. "And we're not kidding."

"What if I go in there and tell that to the receptionist?"

"That would be a bad idea." Lincoln said. "This gun will be aimed at your back, and if that man picks up the phone, or does anything out of the ordinary, I fire." He pulled his gun out of his belt, and took the safety off.

Dr. Curtis swallowed hard, and seeing no alternative, got out of the car. As she walked towards the entrance, she glanced backwards and saw Lincoln, training the gun on her. He met her gaze, and the woman turned back around.

"Welcome to the Pink Sunset." The receptionist greeted her through a yawn.

"Thank you. I'd like to book a room for tonight, please." She said.

"You're in luck; we have some open." The man replied. "Single or double?"

"Double." The doctor said, glancing around. The motel lobby was decorated in varying shades of pink, with clashing decorations. As she turned her attention back to the receptionist, the phone on the desk began to ring.

"I'm sorry, just one moment please." The man said apologetically, reaching for the phone.

"No!" The woman cried, reaching to swat his hand away, aware of what would happen if the receptionist answered the phone right now, with the men watching her. The man raised both his eyebrows. "I mean… I was here first! Whatever happened to courtesy. Honestly!"

"I'm sorry, ma'am, I…"

"I don't have all night." Dr. Curtis snapped, ignoring the sudden perspiration on her forehead.

"Of course not." The man said, sounding a bit afraid of her now. "Just sign here, ma'am." The doctor quickly obeyed. "Here's your key, number 112. Check out's at ten." The receptionist added.

"Thank you." The woman replied, picking the key up. She turned sharply on her heel and strode back out to where her captors were waiting.

In the car, Michael and Lincoln both gave sighs of relief as the doctor turned and began to walk back out of the building. "I'm surprised that worked." Lincoln commented. Michael smirked faintly in agreement.

"Lincoln, the men at the gas station…." Michael began, but a shake of Lincoln's head stopped him.

"Not now. Later." The older brother said, eyes downcast.

"You killed them, Lincoln. This whole thing was about you not being a killer." Michael insisted.

Lincoln now met Michael's gaze. "You think I'm glad I shot them?" He asked heatedly. "You think I thought, well, I might as well commit the crime I was punished for?"

"When is it too much, Lincoln?" Michael asked, eyes revealing his guilt.

"We'll talk later." Lincoln repeated, as the doctor approached the car.

The doctor opened the door and threw the key at Lincoln. "That's awfully risky behavior from someone being held at gun point." Lincoln remarked darkly, still sour about his conversation with Michael. A look of terror passed over the woman's face, before she leaned back in the seat, as far from any of the men as she could get.

Michael looked at the woman. "Let's just go to the room." He said. Michael prodded Sucre gently. "Sucre…" He said, trying to get him to wake up. "Sucre!" Michael poked harder.

Without opening his eyes, Sucre automatically waved an arm wildly, unintentionally whacking Michael in the nose. "What is it, bro?" He asked irritably. "I was sleepin'!"

"We got a hotel room. You can sleep in there." Michael replied, one hand rubbing his nose.

"On a bed?" Sucre asked, hopefully.

"On a bed." Michael promised.

Everybody got out of the car and slowly walked towards room 112. Michael unlocked the door, and entered. Sucre followed, and then Lincoln pushed Dr. Curtis in front of him. Sucre quickly laid down on one of the two creaky queen sized beds. Soft snores seconds later indicated that he was already asleep again. Michael turned to Dr. Curtis.

"You can take the other bed." Michael said. She stared at him for a moment, almost fighting him, before deciding that she would rather have the bed than the couch, or the floor. Dr. Curtis kicked off her shoes and socks, and slid under the covers, aware of the fact that both brothers were watching her. They turned away, and talked quietly for a moment as the woman settled underneath the covers.

She was almost asleep when the bed creaked ominously under the weight of a second person. Dr. Curtis turned and saw Lincoln getting into the bed next to her. "What are you doing?" She asked sharply.

Lincoln glanced at her. "Making sure you don't run off during the night." He replied, sounding almost embarrassed. He lay so that he was touching her, and wrapped an arm loosely around her stomach. Dr. Curtis shifted and rolled over so that her back was to him. "What's your first name?" Lincoln asked softly, so he wouldn't wake Sucre.

After a few moments, the woman replied quietly. "Kate." She said.

"Just to warn you, Kate, I'm a very light sleeper. If you get out of bed, I'll know it."

"Do you tell that to every woman you share a bed with?" Kate asked. Judging by the way his body tensed, Lincoln was a bit taken aback by this boldness; on the couch, Michael grinned faintly. A silence then fell, and one by one, they drifted off to sleep.

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In an office at the Minan-Hatford police department, Alex Mahone pushed the security tape into the VCR and waited. Bill Kim would be calling any time now, wanting an update, and Mahone desperately wanted to have something to tell him besides how he was wrong about the plane. If he didn't, his life and that of his wife's were in jeopardy. _Ex-wife_, he reminded himself.

He pressed play, and watched the video of the gas station, which was of remarkably poor quality. "Oh my God." Mahone said, when it stopped. He rewound the tape, and played it again, just to be sure. "Yes!" He shouted triumphantly.

Just then, his cell phone rang. "Mahone." He said, answering it.

"What's the word?"

"Mr. Kim, it turns out that the fugitives did not board the plane, although all evidence says they were about to. The only person on board was the pilot, who had been killed upon impact."

"That isn't good news, Agent Mahone."

"That's not all. Three men held up a gas station earlier this evening. One of the men was identified by DNA as Fernando Sucre, and Burrows and Scofield are clearly visible on the security video."

"How close are you to them?"

"I'm in the same town as the gas station, Minan, New Mexico, but they wouldn't have hung around long." Mahone replied.

There was a faint pause. "Find them, Mahone. Find them quickly."

"I'm close."

"Don't let them get away again." A click, and then the line went dead.

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Kate Curtis awoke to the sound of voices arguing. She opened her eyes, and saw that it was only the television. She didn't recognize anything they were saying, and saw that Sucre was propped up on some pillows, watching a show in Spanish.

"How are you feeling?" Kate asked, sleepily.

Sucre glanced at her. "Better. Not so dizzy."

"Any pain in your back?"

"It still stings a bit."

Kate nodded. "It'll get better." She hesitated. "Where are the others?"

"One's in the shower, the other went to go check out." The Latin man replied.

"We could escape now, Fernando." She said, softly. He turned to give her a strange look.

"Escape?" Sucre repeated, confused.

Kate nodded. "They aren't watching us right now. They're holding you and me captive right now, and this could be our only opportunity to escape."

"Attempting to escape would be a bad idea." Lincoln said, coming out of the bathroom. Kate felt a faint blush creep into her cheeks as she observed that he was topless.

"Oh?" She challenged.

He glanced over his shoulder at her as he searched for his shirt. "Yeah."

The door to the motel room opened. She noted that both Sucre and Lincoln stiffened slightly, before relaxing as they realized it was just Michael. The younger brother nodded in greeting. "I got breakfast." He said, lifting a paper bag for emphasis. Michael handed a breakfast sandwich to Lincoln and Sucre, before turning to Kate. "I wasn't sure what you liked, so I got a couple of different things." He said, handing the bag to her.

Kate gave him a confused look; why did he care if she liked what they ate? She was their prisoner! She would count herself lucky if she were still alive at the end of the day. Kate examined each sandwich, before selecting one that looked moderately edible.

Kate sat on one bed, while Michael, Lincoln, and Sucre sat on the other. They spoke hurriedly, and in hushed tones that Kate couldn't hear. _That was probably the point_, she thought.

"What do you mean, cleans us out?" Lincoln asked loudly. "I thought you had the five million!"

Michael glanced at Kate, before looking back at Lincoln. "I told you, there were complications. T-Bag screwed us all over, and took most of it. What I had, we just spent."

"What do we have left?" Sucre asked, placing an arm in front of Lincoln to keep him from doing something he might regret. For whatever reason, the older brother was behaving in a rather hostile manner. What Sucre found particularly strange was that this hostility seemed to be largely directed at Michael.

"About ten dollars." Michael replied.

Sucre whistled softly. "That won't even buy another tank of gas." Michael shook his head in agreement.

"So why don't we go get some of it from T-Bag?" Lincoln asked in a menacing tone. "Pay him a little visit."

"We don't know where he is." Michael pointed out.

The three were silent for a moment, thinking. "How could you have let this happen, Michael?" Lincoln snapped suddenly. "That money was our only chance!" Michael put a hand up, silencing any further comments.

"You can shower now." Michael said to Kate, in a chilly tone. It was quite a contrast from the Michael who had brought her a selection of breakfast sandwiches. Sensing that this was not a request she could refuse, Kate set her sandwich down, and walked back to the bathroom.

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Review, por favor.


	5. Chapter 5

Thanks for the reviews! In response to the Lincoln/Kate questions, I'm not sure. That's not the direction that I intended the story to move in (I have most of this story planned out, if not written, already); any Lincoln and Kate stuff in previous chapters was sheerly accidental. As I was reading over the last chapter one last time before posting it, I noticed that it did seem rather L/K, but that was unintentional. I figured no one would except me would notice... lol. I've been thinking about where I want this story to go now, though, and now I'm considering changing my plans a little bit. This chapter is more of a filler chapter, I guess, between the last chapter and the next two. The next two chapters are a little intense (lots of stuff happens...), but the next chapter probably won't be up until Friday.

On a side note, does anybody know how old Sucre, Michael, and Lincoln are supposed to be on the show?

Disclaimor: Don't own Prison Break. The only thing I made up is Kate Curtis.

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When Kate walked out of the bathroom, wearing her jeans and navy blue t-shirt from the night before still, Lincoln was the only one in the motel room. He glanced up from the Bible that he'd been looking at, then silently brought his attention back to the book. Kate yanked her towl-dried hair up into a bun, then sat down on the bed opposite of Lincoln.

"The other man said you found Fernando by the side of the road." Kate said, after a moment's hesitation. What she was doing was risky; he did, after all, have a gun in his possession.

Lincoln glanced up, a strange look on his face. "Yeah. So?"

"You said he was your friend."

"What?"

"At the hospital. When you were tricking me into coming, you said he was your friend. Those stories don't match." The doctor pointed out. Lincoln shrugged uncomfortably. "Unless the other man found you _and _Fernando at the same time." She paused. "But that doesn't fit either, because the other one said 'we' found him. Plus, you all seem to know each other pretty well. Which story is it?"

"You're the captive. I'm the one holding all the cards, and in this case, the weapon. If you want to risk your life, keep asking questions." Lincoln said, not in the mood to be questioned like this. Kate fell silent.

A moment later, the door to the motel room opened to admit Sucre. "He wants to talk to you." He said, to Lincoln, who stood and walked outside. Sucre sat down on the bed, and began flipping through television channels.

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Licoln joined Michael in the car. They couldn't stand outside of the car; it was too risky, now that it was light outside. "Sucre said you wanted-"

"Yeah." Michael said. "We need money before we can even begin to try to expose the Company, or escape across the border." He hesitated, waiting for a response. Lincoln gave none. "We can try to find T-Bag, but that's risky. He might not have the money any more." Again, a pause. "Our alternative aren't good either. We could rob something, but that'll put them that much closer to us. We need the money, Linc. What do you think we should do?"

Lincoln sighed. "We need to just go after T-Bag. It'll be the easiest."

Michael smiled faintly. "That's what I was thinking."

"Let's go then." Lincoln suggested.

"Before we get Sucre and the doctor, we need to talk." Lincoln froze, hand on the door handle. "About the men. Why did you kill them?"

"What the hell do you mean, Michael? Aren't you supposed to be on my side?"

"I am on your side, Lincoln, but-"

"Bull! Wasn't it obvious why I killed them? To save Sucre, and to save _you_! The man was beating you, what was I supposed to do? Stand there doing nothing while my little brother got the crap beaten out of him?! It's your fault, Michael!"

"Now that's not fair!" Michael snapped. "Don't you pin this on me."

"It's your fault that I pulled the god damned trigger, Michael! It's your fault I killed them! Because of you, I am a _murderer_!" Lincoln shouted. He paused, breathing heavily. Michael just stared out the window. "It _is_ your fault, Michael." Lincoln repeated heatedly. He opened the door, got out, and slammed the car door vehemently. He stormed angrily away from the vehicle, fists jammed into his pockets.

Michael hit the steering wheel in anger, grimacing as the horn went off. They couldn't afford to draw that kind of attention. He rested his head on the wheel, trying to decide how to help his brother. Lincoln couldn't _really_ blame him, right? He was probably just feeling guilty about killing the Ernie and the clerk. God knows Michael would feel bad if he had been the one holding the weapon. He felt guilty enough the Lincoln had killed somebody. Michael was Lincoln's only brother, though, so surely Lincoln didn't really blame him. Right?

Michael stepped out of the car, watching Lincoln, waiting for him to make the first move.

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Kate considered the Puerto Rican for a moment. "They didn't find you by the side of the road, did they." She said, more of a statement than a question.

"Why would you think that they did?" He asked, eyes never leaving the television.

Kate picked at a hole in the bedding. "He said they did. The younger one." She replied. Sucre's lack of response only increased her suspicions. "How were you stabbed?" Kate asked.

Sucre turned his head toward her now. "You ask a lot of questions." She shrugged uncomfortably. "It's none of your business."

Kate glanced at the nightstand, where a newspaper had been haphazardly placed. She picked it up, scanning the headlines. 'Energy Bill Hurts Local Economy,' 'President Meets With World Leaders,' and 'Wal-Mart to Replace Empty Lot' dominated the front page of the local newspaper. A small blurb at the bottom caught her eye, however. 'Escapees In Minan-Hatford', the headline read. Kate's brow furrowed slightly as she read the article, which explained how a gas station had been robbed by some of the fugitives, how blood had been found identifying one escapee and a video identifying two others. The doctor shook her head slightly, about to set the newspaper back on the nightstand, when her gaze settled on pictures of the fugitives. Her eyes grew wide.

The woman looked up suddenly at Fernando. "You're Fernando Sucre." She said, voice full of awe and terror.

Sucre turned to her, first puzzled, then comprehending all too well. "Oh sh-"

Kate was already on her feet, sprinting for the door. She yanked it open violently, screaming, "Fugitives in 112! Fugitives in-" Sucre clamped a hand over her mouth, preventing any further shouts. He pulled her back into the room, despite her fervent kicks and attempts to force him to release her.

Sucre wrestled her to the floor, trying to subdue her. Kate's limbs were still flailing wildly, her yells still too audible. Fernando kneeled over her, hands pinning her wrists down, but her body was still thrashing. In a desperate act, Sucre did the only thing he could think to do: he kissed her on the lips. The doctor stopped moving, eyes wide in shock. Sucre lifted his head, gasping slightly for air from the struggle. The amount of blood he'd lost the night before made him far more succeptible to fatigue. For the moment, he was just relieved that he had managed to suppress this threat.

Without warning, the woman started wiggling and twisting again, and because the continued rebellion caught Sucre off guard, Kate managed to get to her feet. She made for the door again, but the door was thrust open from the outside to admit Michael and Lincoln. Kate accidentally ran straight into Lincoln, who grabbed her instinctively. Lincoln held her still, while Sucre clamped a hand over her mouth. Michael stood in front of her, a puzzled expression on his face.

"She knows." Sucre said, answering the younger man's unspoken question. Michael nodded slightly and sighed. This complicated things.

Five minutes later, the black sedan pulled out of the parking lot of the Pink Sunset. Lincoln was driving, while Michael examined a map. Sucre sat in the back, glancing every couple minutes at Kate, whose seatbelt was buckled awkwardly over both of her shoulders, as her hands and feet were bound. A strip of duct tape had been placed against her mouth, and she stared out the window, trying not to think too much.

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Ten minutes after that, a silver car drove slowly into the parking lot of the motel. Alex Mahone stepped out, and made his way towards the lobby. He had driven all through the night, following tips about the car the escapees were believed to be driving all the way to this small town in the middle of absolutely nowhere, and was in desperate need of sleep before he could do any detective work.

"Excuse me." Mahone said softly, to the receptionist. She smiled slightly at him.

"How can I help you, sir?"

"I need a room now, for the night."

"No check ins until two, sir." The young woman replied, smile fading.

"Please, I just need a room." His quiet tone gave away how exhausted he was. "I can pay in cash, up front."

"I'm sorry sir, housekeeping hasn't had a chance to clean the rooms yet." She said. "If you'd like, you can make a reservation and come back later."

"I believe that this covers the room." Mahone said, ignoring her and pulling a hundred dollar bill out of his wallet, discreetly showing her his FBI badge. "Keep the change for being so helpful."

"Sir, there isn't a room..."

Mahone spotted a room key on the counter. "I'll take this one." He said. "112. Sounds like a good room." Mahone picked it up, and started to walk away. "Thank you." He called back, over his shoulder. The young woman watched him walk away, before shrugging and taking a closer look at the one hundred dollar bill.

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Room 112. Sound familiar? In case it doesn't, that was the room our favorite cons (and doctor) stayed in. So Mahone is in the room they were in, and the four left in a bit of a hurry, maybe leaving behind some clues...

Please review!


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6!

In regards to any Kate/Lincoln and Mi/Sa aspects of this story, everything should start to become clear in the next couple of chapters. I don't want to say right now, just because that's no fun (for me :) ). I've definitely decided where this is going. Some stuff should begin to come together soon, so... And does anybody, anybody at all know how old they are supposed to be? If so, please tell me in a review. T-Bag is in this chapter too; I'd like some feedback as to how bad/well I wrote him. Thanks!

Disclaimer: I don't own Prison Break, just Kate (and Adam). Also, there is actually a town in New Mexico called Berino. I imagine that there is probably not a bar called Pablo's there, but if there is, it's sheer coincidence.

Enjoy! And please, please, please review!

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"Hey Adam." One of the nurses at the nurses' station greeted the man with dark hair as he stepped out of the elevator onto the surgical floor. "What can I do for you?"

Adam Logan smiled faintly. "I'm looking for Kate. She here?"

The nurse frowned. "She clocked out last night."

"Oh. She was supposed to be home around eleven last night, but when she didn't come, I figured she'd just gotten the chance to scrub in on a brain surgery or something. You know how the surgeons are." Adam said, looking a bit puzzled as to where Kate could be.

"I do know. But she definitely left a little after ten." The nurse replied. "I'm sorry I don't know where she is."

Adam waved an arm carelessly. "It's all right; she probably went to visit her mother or something and forgot to call."

The nurse nodded, not seeming as confident as the man did. That wouldn't be at all like the Kate Curtis _she _knew. "Yeah."

"All right then. Thanks anyway." Adam said, turning to walk away from the nurses' station.

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After three hours in the car, Michael had carefully removed the duct tape from Kate's mouth, leaving behind a red mark that had faded slowly over the next hour. Sucre had stayed awake for the entire time, staring out the window as if trying to commit as much of the scenery to memory as possible. Michael stared straight ahead, when not studying the map, and Lincoln, of course, had been driving. The car was silent the entire time, as no one really felt like talking, with the exception of a brief discussion amongst the men about Michael's baseball hat (he was wondering if Lincoln or Sucre had seen it, since Michael wasn't sure where it had gotten to).

It was noon when Michael finally managed to persuade Lincoln to stop at a rundown rest station. Michael and Sucre went inside to the bathrooms and vending machines first, leaving Lincoln behind to prevent Kate from escaping. She wisely didn't say anything, perceiving that Lincoln was in a bad mood. When Michael and Sucre returned, Lincoln went inside. Sucre walked Kate over to the women's restroom; even injured, he was strong enough to overpower her if the situation called for it. He waited outside, and then they returned to the car. Michael was standing outside of the vehicle, dialing a familiar number on his cell phone. The doctor and Sucre joined Lincoln in the car.

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Sara Tancredi was standing outside of BJ Parker's apartment, the man who was creating her false id, when her cell phone vibrated. She sighed in exasperation, knowing exactly who it was. Sara fished her cell phone out of her purse, and opened it. "What?" She asked irritably.

"Hello Sara."

Even though she had known who it would be on the other end, that voice still made her knees feel shaky, just as it always had. "What, Michael?" Sara asked, still sounding annoyed.

"How are you?"

"I'm okay."

"Me too." Michael paused, as if waiting for a response; he got none. "Where are you?"

"Somewhere safe."

"Nowhere is safe." Michael commented.

"This place is." Sara insisted.

"I can protect you, Sara."

"From what?"

Michael ignored this. "There is a town in New Mexico, by the border, called Berino. There's a bar there called Pablo's. I'll be there the day after tomorrow, a little after ten. Meet me?"

"I can't do this now, Michael!" Sara snapped, trying to keep her voice down.

"Why not?"

"Because I am starting over, Michael! I'm starting my life over. I'm going away, I'm going to buy a house, and get a job, and live my life without having to worry about any of this!" Sara hissed, stepping into a supply closet so no one could overhear her.

"Is that what you want, Sara? To settle down?" Michael asked, trying to keep defeat out of his voice.

"Yes, Michael, that's exactly what I want. I want to be able to settle down, and not have to move away because one of my neighbors recognized me, or to have to look over my shoulder for the rest of my life. Can you give me that?" She asked vehemently.

"Not right now, Sara, but I have a plan, we can make this better."

"Michael, I can't-"

"Just come, Sara. Come to Pablo's." Michael urged her. "I have to go. See you in two days."

"Good bye, Michael." Sara replied quietly. She snapped her phone shut, and slipped it into her purse. Sara was about to step back out into the hall when she heard yelling. She carefully opened the door, peering out.

Two men in suits were banging on the door to BJ's apartment. "FBI! Open up!" One man shouted.

The door opened. "Yo, what's up homies?" BJ asked.

"We're looking for a Sara Tancredi. Have you seen her in the past month?" The other questioned harshly.

BJ's brow furrowed in concentration. "No, man, not yet, but she was comin' here today." He replied.

The men grabbed his arms, and swiftly handcuffed BJ. "BJ Parker, you are under arrest. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you. You have the right to a lawyer…" Sara watched in horror as the men led BJ away, ignoring his protests and blandly stating his rights as they went.

The doctor slumped against the door, fighting tears. _'Nowhere is safe, Sara.' _Michael's words echoed in her head as she realized just how foolish it had been to believe that all this would go away just because she wanted it to. Sara sat down against the wall, and began to cry.

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Michael got back into the car. "Let's go." He said, disappointment etched across his face. Lincoln glanced at him, then pulled out of the parking lot.

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The first thing Alex Mahone did upon waking up was glance at the clock, which read 12:30. After that, he took his first shower in days. When he came back out, his gaze settled on a newspaper that was lying crumpled on the floor. The agent stooped down, picked it up, and set it on the nightstand.

Alex had taken two steps before he turned around to look at the paper again. An article about the Fox River 8 was torn and crinkled. His forehead wrinkled as he contemplated this. Finally, he shrugged. When he walked away again, the first thing he saw was a familiar baseball cap. A grim smile spread across his face.

The receptionist from earlier was still on duty. "Hello… oh, it's you again." She said, as she recognized him.

Mahone glanced at her name tag. "Tammy, I'm with the FBI." She nodded, but he exposed his badge anyway. "Who was in room 112 last night?" The agent asked, leaning on the counter.

"Uh… let me check." The young woman pressed several buttons on the computer. "A woman named Kate Curtis." She replied.

"Was there anyone with her?" Mahone asked. It was a double room; he found it unlikely that she was alone.

"She checked in alone, it says, but as I was coming in this morning, I saw two men outside of it talking, and a man checked out of 112 this morning." Tammy answered, looking confused.

"Do you have any idea where they might have been going?" Mahone asked urgently.

Tammy brightened. "That I do know." She said, with a smile. "The man asked me if I knew where Ness City, Kansas is when he checked out this morning. I found him a map in back. He was very nice, but aloof. I had never heard of Ness City before, so I Googled it. I kind of wanted to know why such a handsome guy was headin' there. I couldn't find anything that would have been of any interest to him, so maybe it was for business." She suggested.

Mahone straightened. "Thank you for your help." He said, turning to walk away.

"Hey, Mr. Mahone? There was one somewhat interesting thing about Ness City. Did you know that Theodore Bagwell, one of the Fox River 8, was originally arrested in Ness City, Kansas?" Tammy asked.

He turned. "Yes, I did know that." Mahone replied, with a faint smile.

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At a little after nine, Lincoln, Michael, Sucre, and Dr. Curtis arrived in Ness City, Kansas. Michael was driving now; a couple hours after their first stop, Lincoln needed a break so they had switched. "This is it." Michael said, glancing at a piece of paper as they pulled up in front of an ordinary-looking house.

Everybody else looked at the building as well. "He chose to hide out here?" Sucre asked doubtfully.

Michael shook his head. "He knew someone here." All of them got out of the car and walked up to the front door. It was unlocked, so they went inside.

Michael led the way, following the sounds of silverware to the kitchen, where T-Bag sat at the table, his back towards them. "Hello, T-Bag." Michael said. The man at the table stiffened, and turned slowly, a lopsided grin on his face.

"Well, well." T-Bag said slowly. "I'm won't pretend to know how you found me, but I suggest you turn around and walk out that door right now." Michael shook his head firmly. Behind him, Sucre crossed his muscular arms, while Kate tried to avoid drawing any attention to herself.

T-Bag looked at each of them individually, before his eyes found Kate. "Who might this… lovely young lady be?" He asked, eye twitching slightly.

"I'm Kate Curtis." She replied, voice trembling slightly. The blonde woman didn't know what was going on here, and she didn't want to.

"And where did cons like these pick up such a pretty thing?" T-Bag inquired, his Southern drawl seeming more pronounced in contrast with everybody else's lack of an accent (except Sucre).

"Don't worry about her, T-Bag." Michael instructed, bringing the criminal's attention back to him. "You have something that belongs to us."

"Oh? What's that?'

"Our share of the five million." Lincoln replied sharply. T-Bag looked at both of them, before a crazy smile appeared on his face.

"What makes you think I still have it?" He asked, moving food on his plate around with his fork.

Michael smirked faintly. "Even you can't spend five million dollars in a matter of days."

"What happened to your hand?" Kate asked suddenly, staring at T-Bag's wrist.

T-Bag gave her a creepy smile. "You ask too many questions, Lovely." He replied, running his fingers over the seam between his arm and prosthetic hand unconsciously. "Give me one good reason why I should give you some of _my_ money." T-Bag added, looking now at the men.

Lincoln strode quickly over to the chair in which T-Bag sat, tired of playing games. He pulled the gun out of his belt and held it to T-Bag's head. "Most people would consider this a damn good reason." Lincoln snapped.

T-Bag gave a nervous laugh. "I'll give you that." He agreed.

"Don't." Kate said suddenly, looking at T-Bag. "Don't give in." All of the men turned to her, questioning looks on all of their faces.

Lincoln turned back to T-Bag. "Tell us where the money is, right now, or I'll send a bullet into your brain." He snapped, digging the gun into T-Bag's head. T-Bag opened his mouth, but Kate interrupted him.

"No he won't." She said, sounding very certain.

"Why's that, Lovely?" T-Bag asked, in a strained voice.

Kate shifted uncomfortably as everyone turned to look at her, but met Lincoln's look. "You don't sleep as lightly as you think." Kate said suddenly.

_Back in room 112, all was dark, except for the light of the alarm clock and the light of a lamp outside shining in through the front window. The alarm clock's glow was reflected in Kate's open eyes. It was hard to sleep when one was being held captive by unknown men for an unknown reason._

_Lincoln's arm was still loosely sprawled across her waist, but his breathing was shallow, indicating that he was asleep. Kate carefully lifted his arm, and set it slowly back down on the bed. She stood silently, and started to walk towards the bathroom for a glass of water when she spotted the handgun that Lincoln had been carrying around on the dresser. The doctor paused. She pushed her hair back out of her eyes, thinking._

_A moment later, she picked up the gun. Kate slid her shoes on, and started walking backwards to the door, pointing the gun alternately between Lincoln, Sucre, and Michael. She stopped walking, and aimed the gun at Lincoln. Kate took the safety off. 'So much for "first do no harm"…' She thought ironically, crying silently at the thought of what she was about to do. The doctor pulled the trigger, but nothing happened except for a soft click. She looked at the weapon, and saw that there were no bullets in it. It looked like it had seen recent use, but there were no shots left._

_Realizing how bad it would be for her if one of the men awoke and saw her like that, holding the gun, Kate quietly put the weapon back on the table where it had been as quickly as she could. She then got back into the bed, still soundlessly sobbing about what she had considered doing, and placed Lincoln's arm back on top of her._

"It's empty. The gun. No bullets." Kate stuttered. _If the enemy of my enemy is my friend, then this T-Bag person must be my friend. _She reasoned. _Sort of._

T-Bag laughed. "He wouldn't have shot me anyway, Lovely. This 'un ain't a killer." He said. Lincoln sent a dark glance towards Michael. "But her calling your bluff does rather ruin your plan, doesn't it?" T-Bag asked.

Lincoln dropped the weapon and punched T-Bag. "Where's the god damn money?" Lincoln yelled. T-Bag rolled off the chair and away from the older brother.

"Now, now, violence is never the answer." T-Bag said, coming to stand next to Kate. He felt his jaw gingerly where Lincoln had hit him. "I appreciate that tip all the same, Lovely." T-Bag added, in a softer voice. Kate nodded in acknowledgment, uneasy.

"T-Bag. Give us our share of the money, or I'm calling the police. I don't know who owns this house, but I've an idea what you did to them." Michael said, voice dangerously low. The situation was getting out of hand. T-Bag looked at first one brother, then the other, then at the Puerto Rican, before looking at Kate again, clearly trying to decide what to do.

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Review please!


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I don't own Prison Break.

This will have some Mi/Sa in a couple chapters, as well as Lincoln/Kate.

As of now, there were 85 hits for the previous chapter, and not one review. That's just sad, people. I know you can do better! Please review!

**A word about the rating of this chapter: This chapter contains a scene of attempted rape. I don't think that it's that bad, but different people are affected differently. Viewer discretion is advised.**

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_T-Bag laughed. "He wouldn't have shot me anyway, Lovely. This 'un ain't a killer." He said. Lincoln sent a dark glance towards Michael. "But her calling your bluff does rather ruin your plan, doesn't it?" T-Bag asked. _

_Lincoln dropped the weapon and punched T-Bag. "Where's the god damn money?" Lincoln yelled. T-Bag rolled off the chair and away from the older brother._

"_Now, now, violence is never the answer." T-Bag said, coming to stand next to Kate. He felt his jaw gingerly where Lincoln had hit him. "I appreciate that tip all the same, Lovely." T-Bag added, in a softer voice. Kate nodded in acknowledgment, uneasy._

"_T-Bag. Give us our share of the money, or I'm calling the police. I don't know who owns this house, but I've an idea what you did to them." Michael said, voice dangerously low. The situation was getting out of hand. T-Bag looked at first one brother, then the other, then at the Puerto Rican, before looking at Kate again, clearly trying to decide what to do._

"I'm a reasonable gentleman." T-Bag said, sensing that this was not a fight that he could win. "The money's in the livin' room." Lincoln grabbed T-Bag roughly, and forced him to show them the location of the money. T-Bag pulled it out from under the couch, and handed them each a large stack of bills. "Your shares." He spat, dropping the stacks on the floor. Michael picked them up, and handed one to Sucre and Lincoln. "Am I free to go enjoy my freedom yet?" T-Bag asked.

Michael glanced at him. "If you want a share, you're staying until we count _all_ of this." T-Bag began to protest, but then thought better of it. He knew he was a dead man if he ran out of money down the road.

Michael, Sucre, and Lincoln sat down on the floor and began counting the money, to ensure that T-Bag had given them _equal_ shares of it. Kate was perched on the armrest of an armchair, and T-Bag lingered nearby. The Southern man crept towards the doctor. "Why don't you follow me for a moment, Lovely?" T-Bag asked softly, in her ear. She turned towards him, puzzled. "I got somethin' to show you." He added. "Let's get away from these bastards who so clearly don't value you." Kate glanced at the men on the floor, who were too absorbed in their task to pay attention to their conversation. Then the blonde woman nodded, and stood and followed T-Bag to the back of the house. He led her to a room in which the only light came from the moon through an open window. A bed and dresser were dimly illuminated, but nothing else could be seen.

Michael watched the man and woman exit the living room. He shrugged; what did he care if T-Bag didn't want his money? It wasn't as though they needed the doctor anymore either; if they wanted to leave, that was their choice. _Although_, Michael thought,_ I wouldn't willingly go anywhere alone with T-Bag._

"Kneel down on the floor here, Lovely." T-Bag said, sitting down next to the dresser. Kate followed suit. "We don't want them to overhear our… discussion." He added, turning on the nearby radio loudly. Country music began to play loudly.

Lincoln glanced up. "Do you hear that?" He asked his brother and Sucre.

Both were silent for a moment, before nodding. "D'you think we should make sure everything's okay?" Fernando asked, making a doubtful face.

"Let's just keep counting." Michael suggested. "The sooner we get out of here, the better."

"What do you want to discuss?" Kate asked loudly, over the sound of the music.

T-Bag's eye twitched again. "Well, of course," He said, inching closer to her. "I want to talk about you, Lovely." Kate crawled slowly backwards, until her back hit a wall.

"What's to discuss?" She asked sharply.

T-Bag gave a smile that sent shivers up her spine. "Everything." He replied. "Those men abducted you, didn't they? They threatened to hurt you if you didn't cooperate, didn't they?" Kate nodded tenatively, staring at the man in front of her. "Ol' Teddy can make it better." T-Bag added slowly, gesturing at himself. "He always can." He said, placing his hands loosely on her arms. She tensed, as the Southern man kissed her on the lips, ignoring her protests. Kate managed to get one arm free, and slapped T-Bag as hard as she could. He grinned insanely. "Feisty, eh?" T-Bag remarked, tightening his hold. He kissed her harder now. She squirmed and tried to cry out, attempting to get him to stop, but to no avail.

"You'll come to appreciate me before the end, Lovely. They always do." T-Bag said, forcing her to the floor. He straddled her, and kissed her repeatedly on the lips, muffling her protests. The criminal lifted her navy blue T-shirt over her head, and lifted up the bed skirt and tossed the shirt under. Underneath the bed, Kate swore that she saw a lifeless body. She screamed, over and over again until T-Bag kissed her again. "You think someone's gonna hear you, Lovely?" T-Bag panted, pausing to take off his own shirt. "They won't hear nothin', not over that radio." He added. T-Bag planted a chain of kisses down her jaw, neck, to her collarbone, and slowly moving lower. Kate used this opportunity to scream as loudly as she could, praying that someone, anyone would hear her.

Outside in the living room, Lincoln had stopped counting again. "You ain't never going to finish your stack if you don't keep counting." Sucre remarked, already halfway through his pile of cash.

Michael glanced up at his brother. Clearly Lincoln thought something was wrong. Michael started to say something to Lincoln, but the older man silenced Michael with a hand. Michael and Sucre had taken a break from counting too now, listening. All was silent.

Abruptly, a sound that was undeniably a scream pierced the quiet before fading away into a sob. Lincoln was on his feet before the other men had set their money down, running towards the back of the house.

T-Bag started kissing Kate again, who sensed that this time he was more serious. He was moving his hands all over her, despite her constant attempts to break free. Suddenly the door was flung open. T-Bag turned around furiously, and leapt to his feet to face the intruder, while Kate quickly crawled away from her assailant. Lincoln was on T-Bag before the latter had a chance to lift a finger to defend himself. Lincoln hit T-Bag again, and again, not stopping when T-Bag's nose began to bleed, nor when his own fist cracked open.

Michael and Sucre finally pulled Lincoln off T-Bag when it became clear that T-Bag was unconscious. As much as they all disliked the con, it would only be bad for them if he died. Lincoln, after initially fighting his friends' efforts, slumped against a wall, breathing heavily. Upon seeing that Lincoln had calmed down a bit, Sucre and Michael went back to the living room to finish the job so that they could leave T-Bag behind as quickly as possible.

Lincoln shut his eyes for a moment, thinking. He couldn't keep losing his temper like that; if he didn't, someone _else_ was likely to end up dead, and he didn't think he could handle another murder on his head. If only people wouldn't piss him off so, it would be a lot easier. Gradually, Lincoln became aware that Kate was huddled in a corner, tears streaming down her face, silent except for the occasional sob that she couldn't suppress. Lincoln stared at her for a moment, before glancing at his hand, which was still bleeding slowly, and standing up.

Despite the fact that she was their captive and that she had caused them nothing but problems since she saved Sucre's life, Lincoln couldn't help but feel sorry for the doctor. After all, if it hadn't been for them, she would never have been in this situation. "Are you okay?" Lincoln asked, in tone that was neither harsh nor exceptionally gentle. A sob was the only answer he received; it was the only answer she was capable of giving right then. Lincoln slowly stepped towards her, approaching her the way one would approach a wild animal. When he was about two feet away, he stopped and extended his hand to her. She hesitated, then placed her hand in his. As Lincoln pulled Kate to her feet, she completely broke down. She began to cry hysterically, so Lincoln pulled her in close to him. Kate clung desperately to his shirt, while he rubbed her back with one hand, the other supporting her head slightly. He could feel every sob that wracked through her body, every shaky breath she took. Lincoln tried not to think about the fact that she was topless, except for her bra. It wasn't as though he liked her like that. It wasn't as though he liked her at all.

Slowly Kate calmed down; her sobs slowed, and she began to remember that Lincoln was her captor, not her friend. As much as she needed a friend right then, he was not it. He was a big part of the reason she was in this mess. Kate stepped backwards, away from him, and began hunting for her T-shirt. Lincoln watched for a few seconds, before joining in the search.

Michael opened the door a moment later. "Linc… we're finished. We need to get out of here." He said, softly. Lincoln turned to him and nodded. Michael walked back out to the living room.

"I-I can't find my shirt." Kate stammered, kneeling on the floor.

Lincoln turned towards her. He slowly shrugged off his jacket, and unbuttoned his shirt, careful not to get blood from his knuckles on it. "Here." Lincoln said, tossing the shirt to the doctor. She quickly put it on as Lincoln pulled on his jacket back on. He held out a hand to help her up, but Kate ignored it and stood on her own. She led the way out of the room, intentionally trodding on T-Bag's false hand as she went.

As Lincoln followed Kate back out to the living room where Michael and Sucre were waiting, he realized that his shirt came down to the woman's mid-thighs. He smiled faintly; the shirt was way too big for her. How had he never noticed before that the top of the doctor's head barely even came to his shoulder?

Michael glanced at Lincoln as they walked into the living room, silently wondering why she was wearing his shirt. Lincoln met his brother's gaze, and shook his head slightly to indicate that he didn't want to talk about it right then. Michael shrugged, and led the way back out to the car.

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Adam looked at the clock in his pick-up truck. 9:22. Kate had been missing for almost twenty-four hours. He pulled his keys out of the ignition, got out, and started walking towards the entrance to the police station, trying not to think about all the statistics that said that after twenty-four hours, the victim was usually dead.

"Can I help you?" The woman behind the desk asked Adam when he walked in.

"Yeah, I think so." He replied, softly, eyes full of unshed tears. "My fiancé is missing."

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Review!


	8. Chapter 8

_I would like to thank the five wonderful people who reviewed the last chapter. Your reviews completely made my day._

_**Lis:** Yeah, Michael and Sucre were a bit uncaring there. My reasoning for this was that Michael felt really bad about what happened, and the only thing that he could think of to do to help right then was get them out of there as quickly as possible, and Sucre just followed what Michael did. Plus, as you mentioned, Michael and Sucre leaving allowed for Lincoln to comfort her, so... I don't know if that makes it seems any better, but that was why._

_**Crimsoncheeks and thewomanwhosoldtheworld: **There will be more MiSa coming up, I promise. Not so much in this chapter, but they meet up with Sara in the next chapter, and then after that, she's more of a main character than she is now. I'm not sure how well I can actually write MiSa stuff though, but I will definitely be giving it a try in upcoming chapters._

Chapter 8!

Disclaimer: Don't own anything, except Kate, Adam, and Minan-Hatford (which is a fictional place, as far as I know). This list of stuff I own seems to be growing...

* * *

They had been driving for hours, and Michael and Lincoln had been talking in hushed tones for several minutes when Sucre leaned forwards, resting his elbows on the sides of their seats. "What're we talking about?" Fernando asked casually.

Michael glanced at Lincoln, then at Sucre. "Where we're going."

"Oh."

"I told Sara we'd meet her in New Mexico in two days," Michael paused, glancing at the clock. "Or, tomorrow, rather. It's a long drive, but we can make it."

"Where to after that?" Sucre asked.

Michael sighed. "We can either try to get across the border, or stay here, and try to expose the people who framed Lincoln."

"Pretty dangerous either way."

"Yeah."

"Well, let me know what you decide." Sucre said lightly. Michael smiled faintly. Sucre glanced behind him, before facing ahead again. "Look, papi, I don't know if I'm statin' the obvious here, but I think we've got to let the doctor go."

Michael turned towards the Puerto Rican slightly, then turned back around to face the road. "Oh?"

Sucre nodded. "I'm glad she stitched me up and all, but we don't need her anymore. She's just causing us problems. And she's suffering." He paused. "Did T-Bag actually rape her?"

Lincoln shook his head. "We got there in time." He said, sounding very preoccupied.

"You still worried 'bout those men at the gas station?" Sucre asked. Lincoln glared at him. "What happened to 'we do what we have to do'?"

"You ever killed someone, Sucre?" Lincoln asked sharply. There was no response, and a silence fell over the group.

"We'll let her go in the morning." Michael decided, breaking the silence. "She can't be in a good state of mind to be left by herself right now anyway." Sucre glanced back, and saw the woman asleep in the back seat, curled up against the door.

"You're right, papi." Sucre remarked, sinking back into his seat again. "I'm gonna try and sleep for a bit. Wake me up if anything exciting's happening."

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"Officer… is there any word?" Adam asked.

The police officer turned. "We were just looking for you, Mr. Logan. There was a development that we wanted to brief you on. If you'll follow me to my office…?" Adam nodded, and followed the officer deeper into the police department.

The officer led him to a small office. The policeman sat behind the desk, while Adam took a seat in the chair in front of it. "You said earlier that you thought maybe she'd gone to visit her family." The officer said. Adam nodded.

"Her dad died a couple years ago, and her mom's in hospice care. Linda, Kate's mom, has lung cancer. Her mother's been fighting it for years." Adam clarified.

The officer nodded, and noted this on a paper. "We called the hospice center that her mom lived in, and no one had seen Kate for a couple of days. We asked some questions at the hospital where she worked, also. No one saw her after her shift, except for a Marly Nelson." The officer paused.

"Marly is a resident with Kate." Adam said.

"Yes, well, Dr. Nelson said that she saw Kate about twenty minutes after her shift ended. Kate had already changed back into her street clothes, but Dr. Nelson said Kate was in front of a supply cart, wearing her white coat. She asked Kate what she was doing, and Kate replied that she had a patient that needed stitches a couple blocks from the hospital, that their car had broken down, and they couldn't get to the ER." The officer said.

"So what, the bleeding patient kidnapped Kate?" Adam asked, sounding doubtful.

"We're looking into it." The officer replied. "We'll let you know as soon as there's something to know." Adam nodded.

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When T-Bag came to, it took him a minute to remember what he was doing lying on the floor. Slowly, the events of the night came back to him, beginning with the murder of Ms. Stanton, the owner of the house, to the reappearance of Michael and his gang, to Burrows' interference. He swore loudly as he felt his face, where the older brother had attacked him.

T-Bag slowly got to his feet, and stumbled disoriented back to the kitchen. He opened the freezer, searching for ice. T-Bag placed several ice cubes inside a plastic bag, and put the makeshift ice pack on his left eye, which was swollen shut. The criminal then went and laid down on the couch, in the living room. He was somewhat amused to see that Michael had left him a wad of cash. T-Bag knew he wouldn't have done the same, had their positions been reversed. T-Bag settled down on the couch, and gradually nodded off.

"Hello, Mr. Bagwell." Mahone said, in a mocking tone, waking T-Bag. He slowly opened his good eye, and didn't respond, except to glare. What was there really to say? "I just thought I'd let you know, before you die, that Mr. Scofield led me to you."

"What, that son of a bitch was working for you?" T-Bag asked.

Mahone laughed grimly. "No." He paused. "Did you see Michael Scofield tonight?"

"Maybe I did, and maybe I didn't." T-Bag replied, guardedly.

Mahone sighed. "We can do this the easy way, or the hard way. This can end well for you, or it can end badly. Did you see Mr. Scofield tonight?"

"Yes."

"Who was with him?"

"His brother, the Puerto Rican, and a feisty lil' lady." T-Bag replied.

Mahone had stood up. "Who was she?"

"Somethin' Curtis. She was with 'em, and they were mighty quick to defend her, when the opportunity arose." T-Bag responded, eyeing the gun.

"What did she look like?" Alex asked, surprised that there was someone else involved now.

"Eh, blonde hair, brown eyes. Short; 'bout five three, five four. Pretty, but nothin' special." T-Bag watched as Mahone noted this in his notebook.

"How long ago were they here?"

"I dunno; they knocked me out before they left."

"What were they here for?"

"They was lookin' for something. I dunno what. I don't think they found it." T-Bag lied quickly. He knew that any chance of escape lay in the money currently hidden underneath the couch.

"Mmhmm." Mahone contemplated this for a moment. "I appreciate your help, T-Bag."

"No trouble." T-Bag replied. His eye widened as Mahone lifted the gun again. "You said-"

"I lied." Mahone stated coldly. "There was no way you were going to get away. Now you are going to die."

T-Bag laughed eerily. "I was in Fox River for life; I was dyin' anyway." He said. "Only now, I die a free man. And not you, not anybody can take that away from me."

Mahone's eyes narrowed. His phone rang suddenly, causing them both to jump.

"You'd best answer that. It sounds important." T-Bag said, knowing that he was probably going to die regardless of whether the agent took the call now or not. Mahone glared at him, but answered the phone.

"Mahone." He snapped.

"Hello, Alex. I need an update." Mr. Kim's voice said. Mahone's eyes never left T-Bag's.

"I followed the fugitives to a motel, the Pink Sunset, and from there, to Ness City, Kansas, where I found Theodore Bagwell."

"But not Burrows, Sucre, or Scofield."

"No, but they were here earlier."

"Not now."

"No."

"Alex, I want you to come back to Minan-Hatford. You can supervise the investigation there." William Kim ordered.

"Excuse me?" Mahone asked sharply, turning around in surprise.

"I think you would be of more use there."

"But, sir, I have Scofield within my grasp…"

"No, Alex, you do not. I expect you to be in Minan-Hatford as soon as you can. And Bagwell better be with you." William Kim hung up, and Alexander Mahone did the same. He turned around, and to his utter horror, saw that the couch was empty and that the front door was slightly ajar.

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"Mr. Logan?" The officer asked.

"Mmmph?" Adam said, waking up.

"I'm sorry to bother you, but there's been a development."

"Oh, no problem. What's happening?"

"As you may have heard, some members of the Fox River 8 were in Minan-Hatford last night." The officer paused, allowing Adam to nod. "One member was injured, and we believe, forced to seek medical attention."

"But how does that…"

"Mr. Logan, the chief and FBI agree that we need to explore the possibility that Ms. Curtis has willingly joined the fugitives."

"But wouldn't that mean that..."

"If that proves to be the case, when we find her, there will be some charges filed against Ms. Curtis." The officer finished, trying not to notice the horrified expression on the other man's face.

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Around ten o'clock in the morning, Sucre parked the car in an empty parking lot. "Welcome to Berino, amigos." He said. There was no response. He turned to Michael, and saw that he had dozed off, and was currently drooling slightly on the window. In the back, Lincoln was asleep, head tilted forwards awkwardly, and then there was Kate, who had slept the entire drive. Sucre sighed. "Hey!" The Puerto Rican said, shaking Michael's shoulder. "Wake up, bro!"

"I'm up!" Michael exclaimed, sitting bolt upright, tense. He relaxed as he realized it was just Sucre. "Where are we?" Michael asked, rubbing his eyes sleepily.

"Berino."

"Oh." A pause. "What time is it?"

"A little after ten. I'm starving."

Michael smiled faintly. "See if you can find a drive-through somewhere out of the way."

"I'm on it." Sucre pulled out of the parking lot and drove leisurely towards a McDonald's he'd seen on his way in.

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Kate had been awake for all of ten minutes when Michael approached her, holding his cell phone. She groaned internally as he came closer. "What?" The doctor asked, wanting to get whatever he wanted done over with as quickly as possible. She didn't want to stay with these men at all anymore, and to be perfectly honest, she hadn't seen any signs that they still wanted her around either.

"I need you to call this number. It's the number for a hotel nearby. I need you to book two rooms for tonight through next week." Michael instructed, handing her the phone. She wrinkled her nose, but opened the phone and dialed.

"Thank you for choosing Pride's Inn, how may I help you today?" A woman's voice asked on the other end.

"Yes, I need two rooms please."

"Single or double?"

Kate glanced at Michael, who held up two fingers. "Double." She replied. "For tonight, through the end of the week."

There was the sound of keys being pressed on the other end, before the woman spoke again. "All right, you're good to go. Check in begins at three."

"Thank you." Kate said, courteously.

"No problem. Thanks for choosing Pride!"

Kate snapped the phone shut, and gave it back to Michael. "I appreciate that." Michael said. Kate shrugged. "I'm sorry about what, er, transpired, last night."

Kate waved a hand. "Let's not talk about it." She paused. "How much longer are you going to keep me?"

Michael stared down the road, thinking. "Just a little while longer." He replied. Michael had no intention of forcing her to stay once they checked in to the hotel. Of course, they wouldn't be able to stay in the hotel once she left; it would be the first thing she told the police. They would have to drive away, to ensure that they weren't caught, and then Michael would call Sara, to tell her where they were really meeting. But Kate wouldn't know any of that, and her misinformation would buy Michael, Lincoln, and Sucre some time.

On the other side of the car stood Sucre and Lincoln. "What're we going to do for five hours until we can go to the hotel?" Lincoln asked Sucre, almost rhetorically.

Sucre shrugged. "Maybe he has a tattoo for that." He suggested, having no serious ideas. Lincoln grinned faintly.

"A tattoo? Nope. But I do have this." He added, pulling a portable DVD player out of the trunk, along with a few DVDs. "I found this when we visited T-Bag."

"We're just going to sit in the car and watch movies for five hours?" Sucre questioned doubtfully.

"When was the last time _you_ saw a movie?" Michael asked, smiling.

Sucre thought for a moment. While he did, Lincoln moved closer to Michael. "When are we getting rid of her?" Lincoln asked his brother softly, so only Michael heard.

"Soon." Was the whispered reply. Lincoln nodded, somewhat reassured. "Hey, Linc?"

"Yeah?"

"Why are you in such a rush to let her go?" Michael inquired quietly.

Lincoln gazed over to where Kate and Sucre stood, looking at the small selection of DVDs. "You know how Veronica was killed for helping us?" He asked Michael finally. "I just don't want something like that to happen to Kate because of us."

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Just before Kate was going to go check into the hotel, Michael turned on the radio, wanting to know where the feds thought they were, just as a precaution. After a moment, the news report shifted from local news to the latest on the Fox River 8. "As I'm sure you've all heard by now, three of the Fox River 8 fugitives were seen in Minan-Hatford just two days ago. Earlier today, authorities linked the disappearance of a Kate Curtis to the men. It was believed that Curtis, who is a doctor at Minan-Hatford General, was abducted by these men, possibly for medical treatment. However, the FBI is now saying that Kate Curtis is wanted for willing association with the escapees. Curtis is a 27-year old Caucasian woman, with blonde hair, brown eyes, weighing 117 at 5'3"." The newscaster said. "Anyone with information about the fugitives or Curtis should contact local authorities immediately."

Michael and Lincoln exchanged glances, both wondering the same thing: how did they link Kate to them so quickly? Lincoln looked back to where Kate was sitting in the back seat, looking like she was about to be sick. "Kate-" He began, but Kate cut him off with a firm shake of her head.

"No, let me go!" She exclaimed, thrashing about, trying to get away from the trio. "I want out of this! You kidnapped me, you don't need me anymore, just let me go!"

Lincoln was already shaking his head. "We can't do that right now, Kate. If you go now, they will find you, and they will charge you and convict you, and you'll end up in prison. You can't win, not right now." He grabbed her hands. "Stay with us a little bit longer, and we'll make it better. I promise." Lincoln urged, trying to talk her out of leaving. He knew that he was right, that if they parted ways with the doctor now, it would go badly for her.

"No! Please!" Kate pleaded. "You don't need me."

"Kate you need to stay with us." Michael said. "Now, it's still soon enough that word won't have reached most people, so you need to go check into the hotel right now."

"I can't! They'll recognize me, and, and..." Kate insisted.

"No they won't." Michael replied, voice still low. "Put these on." He handed her his sunglasses. "That'll be enough for now."

"No!"

"Kate, it will be fine. I promise you." Michael repeated. It took several more minutes of coaxing to convince her to go in, but when she finally did, Kate returned successful in a matter of minutes. She handed Michael back his sunglasses, and they went to their rooms.

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At half past four, Michael stepped out of the hotel room. Lincoln and Sucre were in one room, watching television, while Kate showered in another of the rooms. He pulled out his cell phone.

"Sara, it's me." He breathed, when the recipient of the call answered. Because the feds thought that Kate was helping them, the plan had changed a bit. Now there was no need to abandon the hotel rooms, and they could meet at Pablo's.

Sara sighed irritably. "What, Michael?"

"Are you going to be in Berino tomorrow night?"

"I… I haven't decided yet."

"Where are you?"

"Some interstate."

"So you're on your way." Michael said, a bit amused.

"Maybe."

"Pablo's is dark and on the quiet side, as far as bars go. I'll be in a corner, drinking a scotch. Go to the counter, and order for a martini. Then come to my table. If you don't see me, turn around, get in your car, and drive away."

"Are you even going to be there, Michael?" Sara asked, suddenly wondering.

"Of course I'm going to be there. But if something were to happen…"

"If something happens, I'll disappear." Sara promised.

"Good." A brief silence fell. Michael was about to add something else, but something felt wrong, so he remained silent, listening. Was that a faint buzzing he heard? It certainly wasn't coming from his phone, and he doubted it was coming from Sara's. There was a soft click, and Michael shut his eyes, realization hitting him like a load of bricks. "One more thing, Sara. When you hang up, get rid of your phone. It's bugged." He said, leaning heavily against the wall as it dawned on him that his entire plan had been compromised in a single phone call.

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Mahone smiled as he put the headphones down. He was back in Minan-Hatford now, at a local FBI branch, which was completely outfitted in all FBI gadgets, including technology that allowed cell phone lines to be tapped into. Scofield had unknowingly given him the location along with a time frame of when he would be meeting the prison doctor, and by the time Michael had realized that their call was being listened in on, it was too late. The damage had been done. And Mahone would be waiting at Pablo's, whatever that was, for him and Sara Tancredi, and whoever else happened to be there.

"Mahone." He said, as he answered his ringing phone.

"How are you liking things in Minan-Hatford, Alex?" William Kim asked cheerfully. "Or, better yet, how's T-Bag liking things in Minan-Hatford?"

Mahone hesitated. "Sir, he got away." He admitted. Somehow Mr. Kim's displeasure radiated through their connection. "I do know where and when Scofield is meeting Tancredi, though." Alex added, before the other man spoke again.


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I don't own Prison Break.

So here is Chapter 9. I have no idea why, but I found this chapter to be ridiculously hard to write. I'm not too sure what I think of it, but here it is anyways. More Mi/Sa in upcoming chapters, I promise :)

I think that this is pretty standard of all writers here, but the more reviews I get, the quicker I update. Just a thought.

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For the next twenty-four hours, Lincoln, Sucre, and Kate stayed in the hotel rooms, and Michael only left once to go to a local convenience store to buy some food. Sucre and Lincoln slept in one of the rooms, while Michael and Kate slept in the other. Michael had asked Lincoln if he wanted to share with Kate, since he seemed at least a little closer to her than Michael or Sucre were, but Lincoln had turned him down, insisting that he didn't care any more about her than they did. Michael talked to Kate for a few minutes about how dangerous it would be for her to leave them then, and then determined that it wasn't necessary to share one of the beds with the doctor to prevent her from leaving during the night.

Mostly they watched television. Lincoln hadn't watched any in three years, and Michael and Sucre hadn't for a few months, so it was enjoyable for them. Kate mostly kept to herself. Michael suspected that she was still reeling from T-Bag's behavior and the radio report, so he let her be. By four in the afternoon, however, everybody was suffering from cabin fever, and was more than ready to go to the bar, if only so that they could get out of the hotel rooms.

At nine, Michael gathered Sucre and Lincoln over to one side of the room. Kate came too, but kept back a little. "If something happens," Michael began. "If something goes wrong, we'll meet here in a week." He handed his brother and Sucre a slip of paper on which something was neatly written.

"What about me?" Kate asked. Michael glanced up at her.

"It's better if you don't know the details." He replied. "If it comes to this, stick with one of us."

"Why wouldn't everything go as planned?" Lincoln inquired.

"Yeah, papi. What could go wrong?" Sucre echoed.

"I just have a bad feeling." Michael answered. He didn't tell them about the bugged conversation because Michael suspected that if he did, none of them would even go to Pablo's, and then they would talk him out of going, and Michael knew that he _had_ to go meet Sara. If he didn't, he would lose her. Michael could sense that this was his last chance with the prison doctor, and he didn't want to make things any worse than they already were.

At few minutes later, they left the hotel rooms. Michael, Sucre, Lincoln and Kate had cleaned off everything they had touched, leaving no incriminating fingerprints behind, before getting in the car. They drove for about ten minutes before pulling into the parking lot of a small building at the edge of town: Pablo's Bar. There were just three other cars in the parking lot, one of which presumably belonged to the bartender. Michael parked the car near the entrance, poised for a quick getaway just in case.

Lincoln and Kate went in first, as per Michael's orders. Sucre followed ten minutes later, and fifteen after that, Michael entered. Michael ordered his double scotch at the bar, before sitting down at the table in the corner. Glancing around discreetly, he saw Sucre sitting at a shadowy spot at the bar, and Lincoln and Kate at a table, both sipping beers. A man in a dark suit and hat was also at the bar, and a woman was asleep over her drink at a table. The bartender was a man, in his twenties, and was currently mixing Sucre's drink.

Michael slowly drank his scotch, waiting. It was almost ten thirty, and his drink was almost gone when the door opened to admit a woman with dark hair. She walked directly to the counter, as though she did this every day, and ordered a martini. Michael watched her uncertainly. The woman looked around a little as she waited for the bartender to bring her drink. When he did, she thanked him, put some money on the counter, and walked away from the bar. Michael sighed, as she walked away from him. He returned his attention to his glass, and swallowed the rest of his drink.

"Mind if I join you?"

Michael glanced up, startled, and found himself looking at the woman who had ordered a martini. He was about to tell her that he wanted to be alone when he realized that he recognized her voice. "Not at all." He replied, grinning. The woman didn't quite return his smile, but she sat down across from him. "I didn't recognize you." Michael explained quietly.

"I had to dye my hair. They were after me."

"You cut it too." Michael remarked. Sara shrugged. There was a brief silence. "Why did you leave?"

Sara stared down at her drink. "Your plan wasn't what I had in mind. I wanted to make this go away, and you wanted to disappear." She said. "So I got in my car, and I was going to leave. Then I guess I just changed my mind. I got back out, but this man I knew was waiting. I thought he was my friend before, but he really wasn't. He was a federal agent or something, and he wanted something my father had given me. I don't even know what. He was convinced that I had it, and he thought I was lying when I said I didn't know what he was talking about. So, uh, he…" Sara stopped for a moment, eyes shut. Michael placed one of his hands over hers, sensing that this was difficult for her to talk about. Her eyes flew open at the contact, and she pulled her hand away. "Let's not talk about that right now." She decided. "Tell me about your plan."

"We can't talk here, Sara." Michael said. "But I know now, I know how to make it go away."

Sara stared at him for a moment. "You're sure?"

"I'm sure." He replied, nodding.

There was temporary silence. "I heard that you, um, picked up another doctor?" Sara said.

Michael nodded again. "Sucre was bleeding, he needed stitches."

"Is she pretty?" Sara asked, suddenly seeming even more distant than before.

"What?" This line of questioning confused Michael.

"Well?"

"I, she-_what_?"

"You seem to have quite a thing for doctors." Sara remarked, a bit unkindly.

"Sara, what are you-"

"I left, so you went and got another doctor? Was that supposed to make me _jealous_?"

Across the room, Lincoln could see that Michael was in a little over his head. "I'll be right back." He promised Kate, who shrugged indifferently. Lincoln stood up, and walked as though he was headed towards the bathroom. As he passed Michael's table, he paused. "There something you want to tell me about you and Curtis?" Lincoln asked, forcing a grin, temporarily forgetting his displeasure with Michael over the men in the convenience store. Seeing Michael floundering like this was a new experience for Lincoln, an experience that was proving amusing so far.

Michael looked up at Lincoln, an accusing look on his face. "Oh, you really want to go there, Lincoln?" Michael asked, sounding more offensive now. "'Cause I'm not so sure I'm the brother who's-."

Lincoln raised his eyebrows, surprised. "You take things too seriously." He retorted, cutting Michael off abruptly. Turning to Sara, he said, "The only escapee who's touched Kate, the doctor, was T-Bag." With that, Lincoln continued on his way to the bathroom.

Sara looked at Michael. "The doctor willingly-"

Michael shook his head, cutting her off. "He tried to rape her."

Sara fell silent for a moment, thinking. "And you think that Lincoln has a thing for her?" She asked finally.

Michael shrugged. "All I know is that he was awfully violent with T-Bag."

"Hmm." Sara said, sounding a bit amused.

"Sara, all I want is a chance. A chance to make this right." He paused. "And a chance with you."

Sara looked him in the eye, any amusement gone. "You already had a chance with me."

He shook his head. "A chance to start over. To be able to tell the truth, to not have to use you, to be able to do this right."

"Michael, when asked me to-"

"I _hated_ lying to you, Sara. I hated it. I hate myself for it." Michael said softly, staring intensely at her. Neither of them noticed that the man at the bar in the suit had walked over to the pay phone by the entrance. He inserted his money, and began talking hurriedly in hushed tones.

"I-"

"Think about it." Michael urged her. Sara opened her mouth to argue, but closed it and nodded. "We're leaving tonight. Please come with us."

Sara was silent for a moment, staring down at her still full glass. Finally she looked up at Michael. "I don't have anywhere else to go, so... okay." Was all she said.

"Okay." Michael echoed, grinning from ear to ear.

Lincoln was passing their table again as this transpired. "So much for having a bad feeling about this." He commented, smiling slightly. Lincoln was happy for his brother; he wasn't quite sure what they had agreed about, but if it made Michael so happy, Lincoln was happy.

"Let's go." Michael suggested. When Sara nodded, they both stood up and headed towards the door. Lincoln made his way back over to where Kate was sitting, as Sucre trailed Michael and Sara.

"We're leaving." Lincoln said. Kate quickly stood and followed him to the exit. They quickly stopped, however, as Michael, Sara, and Sucre had abruptly halted just inside the door. A police car was parked in the parking lot, and two police officers were getting out, one talking on his radio. Both drew their weapons, and were headed towards the bar. Everyone quickly exchanged panicked looks. Then Michael nodded towards the back of the bar, suspecting that there was probably a back exit. The others quickly followed him.

"Nobody move!" A familiar voice shouted suddenly. Michael, Lincoln, Sucre, Kate, and Sara turned around, just in time to see Alexander Mahone hang up the pay phone and remove his hat. His gun was held defensively in front of him. "Hands on your heads!" Mahone yelled. Michael glanced at Lincoln, Sucre, and finally Sara, before slowly placing his hands on top of his head. The others quickly did the same.

* * *


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: Don't own it.

Eeep. So it's been almost a week since I last updated, and for me, it feels like forever! I write my chapters on a computer without internet and then transfer it on to this one (obviously with internet access), but I couldn't find the thing I use to transfer chapters...

Review please!

Oh, and to all those who are waiting for the Mi/Sa I promised, there's a _big_ scene for them in the next chapter. Really. :)

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"Hands on your head!" Mahone shouted, gun still held defensively in front of him. Michael, Lincoln, Sucre, Sara, and Kate all slowly lifted their hands, and placed them obediently on their heads. While they certainly outnumbered the agent, he was the only one with a loaded weapon, and someone was likely to get shot if they tried anything. "You too!" He added, looking at the bartender.

"Hey man, I ain't got nothin' to do with your problems, whatever they are." The bartender said, resting his hands on the counter.

"Hands on your head!" Mahone yelled.

"Just take the money, man, and get it over with." The bartender urged Mahone, clearly misinterpreting his motive.

"I don't want the money; hands on your head!" The man looked ready to argue the point, but changed his mind and put his hands on top of his head. "I told you that I would find you." Mahone said, breathing just a little harder than usual. "I told you, Michael." Michael met his gaze, but didn't respond. "They thought that I couldn't do it, but then again, they don't know how to think like fugitives."

"Think about what you're doing, Alex." Michael said, softly.

"I know exactly what I'm doing, Michael. You know I'm a killer; five or six more murders won't make me lose any sleep." Alex replied, a small, grim smile on his face.

"Killing us won't give you what you want." Michael continued.

"Oh?" Mahone challenged. "But letting you live will? Turn around!"

Michael glanced at Lincoln, who nodded almost imperceptibly, before turning around silently to face the bar. Sucre did the same, as did Kate, after a moment's hesitation. She didn't know who this man was, or if he was serious about killing them, but for now, Kate decided to just do what everybody else did.

Sara, on the other hand, was not content to go with the flow and let Michael continue to face the Mahone, against the agent's wishes. "Michael, just do what he says!" She hissed to Michael, facing the bar.

"Ah, Ms. Tancredi. How convenient for you to be here." Alex said, voice full of false kindness. He walked over and stood behind Sara.

"_Dr._ Tancredi." Sara spat.

"People being held at gun point are generally a bit nicer to the one holding the gun." Mahone commented.

"I'm not being held at-" Sara stopped as the agent dug the tip of the gun into her back.

"Don't worry. You are." Alex replied, as the two police officers walked through the entrance of the bar. "Hand-cuff them." He ordered the cops, who moved quickly to obey. One handcuffed Kate, while the other moved towards Michael.

Suddenly, Lincoln turned around, forcefully swinging a large bottle of vodka into Mahone's head, knocking him over. A gunshot was fired, but Lincoln ignored it and hit the agent a few times, knocking him out. A few feet away, Sucre was doing the same to a police officer, while the other one was still trying to clamp cuffs on Michael, who was trying to get to Sara.

There was fighting for a few moments. Kate largely tried to stay out of the way; being handcuffed, she wouldn't be able to do much. Plus, she wasn't really sure if being taken by the police would be a bad thing for her at this point. Then she could explain what had really happened, clear her name, and go home….

Gradually, Kate realized that the fighting had stopped. The police and Mahone were all on the floor, unconscious, and Sucre, Michael, and Lincoln stood, panting. The bartender was slumped against the counter; Kate suspected he was dead. He must have been on the receiving end of Mahone's gunshot. Michael moved over to where Sara was standing as she dropped the remnants of a tequila bottle on the ground; she had used it to fend off a cop.

"Sara-" Michael began to say something, but stopped as the sound of sirens filled the air. "Let's go."

They went out the door, and ran towards the cars. The group was about halfway across the dark parking lot when a SWAT van pulled in. The five people scattered, trying to avoid getting hit by the massive vehicle. Lincoln made his way back to the car, figuring that they would all meet there. As the seconds passed, and no one else appeared, he walked away from the car, searching. He came across Kate, who was hiding behind the bartender's car.

"Come with me." Lincoln ordered, pulling her to her feet before she could respond. They ran back across the parking lot, to the car, and quickly got in.

Michael, Sucre, and Sara had all moved backwards quickly, to avoid being hit by the van.

"Michael?" Sara asked, as she collided with someone.

"I'll take that as a compliment, but no." Sucre responded.

"Sara!" Michael was shouting from across the parking lot, where he had stopped.

"Michael!" Sara yelled back, leading Sucre towards the younger brother.

"Sara, I-" Michael was cut off as policemen began exiting the van quickly.

"My car!" Sara shouted at the men, and took off towards her silver vehicle. Michael and Sucre followed as fast as they could, and quickly got inside.

"What about Lincoln and Kate?" Sucre asked, looking around in search of the pair. Michael also looked, but neither of them saw Michael's brother or the other doctor.

"Look!" Sara exclaimed, as another car pulled out of the parking lot. "That's them!" Michael and Sucre turned. Michael nodded, confirming the identities of the passengers of the other car.

Lincoln drove, as Kate turned back to look at the other car. "They're all in there." She said. Lincoln nodded.

For nearly twenty minutes, both vehicles were involved in car chases, desperately trying to evade the police vehicles that were on their tails. Lincoln and Michael had deliberately driven in opposite directions, forcing the authorities to divide their attention between the two of them. Eventually, the drivers were satisfied that they had lost their pursuers.

After about an hour of driving normally, Kate finally spoke. "Why did you take me with you?" She asked, staring out at the dark landscape.

Lincoln glanced at her briefly, before looking back at the road. "I took the key to the handcuffs." He replied.

Kate grinned faintly. "Oh."

* * *

"Where are we going?" Sara asked, through a yawn. 

"Eventually we're meeting back up with Lincoln. And Kate." Michael answered. "But for now, we're just driving away. We have to find somewhere to lay low for about a week." Sara nodded. Ten minutes later, she was asleep.

* * *

A little after midnight, Lincoln stopped the car at a deserted rest station. "Here." He said, pulling out the key he'd stolen from the cops. Kate held out her hands, and Lincoln removed the handcuffs. 

"You're bleeding." Kate remarked, staring at him.

"What?"

She pointed at his face. "You're bleeding." Lincoln gingerly felt along his cheekbone where she was pointing, until he encountered a warm liquid. He looked at his fingers, and was surprised to see blood. "Let me look at it." Kate ordered, shifting so she was kneeling on her seat. "I think you need stitches."

Lincoln leaned back, swatting her hand away. "It's fine." He said. "Let's just go."

"Come on, you might need stitches. I have some stuff left over from Fernando, we can stitch it up right now, get it over with…"

"No, it's fine. Really."

"Just let me look at it!"

"No!" Lincoln buckled his seat belt again, and turned towards her. "We're going."

"Lincoln, don't be such a baby!"

"I just don't want you to-"

"Just let me look at it! You might not even need stitches. Just let me look." Kate urged him. Lincoln stared at her for a moment, before sighing in resignation.

Kate turned on the overhead light, and reached for her white coat. She put on a pair of rubber gloves, and examined the cut on his face. It was about an inch long, and about two inches beneath his right eye. "You don't really _need_ stitches." Kate announced, a moment later. "Although it is kind of deep."

"See? I told you it was fine."

"You should let me clean it though." Kate added.

"It doesn't need to be cleaned."

"Yes, it does. You're on the run from the law. If it gets infected, where do you think you're going to get antibiotics?" The doctor asked. Lincoln considered this for a moment, before nodding.

"Are you always so stubborn?" Lincoln asked uncomfortably a few minutes later, as Kate placed a bandage on his cut. He was trying very hard to suppress a strange fluttery sensation he was getting in the pit of his stomach as her fingers brushed across his face, and hoped that a bit of conversation would help.

"Sometimes." Kate replied, before getting out of the car to throw the supplies she used in a garbage can. "Okay. Now we can go." Lincoln rolled his eyes slightly as she got back in before beginning to drive away.

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	11. Chapter 11

Sometime between four and five o'clock in the morning, Michael, Sucre, and Sara stopped at a motel. Sara, being the least likely to be recognized, went in and got two rooms, which they all immediately entered. Sucre and Michael went into one and Sara into the other. Michael, however, quickly went to go talk to the doctor when Sucre said something about taking a shower.

Michael knocked on her door, keeping his head ducked so he wouldn't be recognized if someone came out of their room right then. "What?" Sara called, from inside.

"It's me." Michael replied. A moment later, the door opened.

"What do you need?" Sara asked.

"Can I come in?"

Sara hesitated, before opening the door wide enough to allow him to enter. She closed it behind him. "Michael, I don't know if-"

"I just want to talk, Sara." Michael said. "I think we need to." He paused, allowing Sara to nod. "We definitely didn't get a chance to last time, and I don't think you've forgiven me entirely yet." She shook her head. "So, let's talk."

Sara crossed her arms. "What do you want to talk about?"

"Whatever you want to talk about."

Sara was silent for a moment, thinking. "In the infirmary, why did you ask me to leave the door open?" She asked finally.

Michael nodded faintly, as though he'd been expecting this, and sat down on the corner of the bed. "I didn't want to lie to you again."

"So you just used me instead."

"I didn't want to, Sara. I told you, I hated it. I couldn't bring myself to lie to you again; I didn't want to hurt you. So I told you the truth." Michael paused, looking down at his feet. "I think that ended up hurting you more, though."

"Do you know that I face thirty years for accessory?" Sara asked suddenly.

"Yes."

"I'm guilty of it too, Michael."

"I know. But we can make it better. There's this conspiracy, they have control of the government. I know how to expose them, and then all this _will_ go away." He explained, certainly.

"I don't care, Michael! I don't care about conspiracies. I thought we had something, Michael. When you called, you told me it was real. If you were telling the truth, then I just don't understand how you could do this to me." Sara said, gesturing wildly.

Michael was silent for a moment. "This wasn't supposed to happen!" He snapped suddenly.

"What wasn't supposed to happen?"

"You! You weren't supposed to be you." Michael replied heatedly, running a hand over his head.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Michael looked up at her now. "I plotted the escape for months before I was arrested. I knew everything about every employee at Fox River, including you. I knew all about you. You were essential. I was going to use you to gain access to the infirmary, to escape. But you weren't supposed to be…."

"What wasn't I supposed to be?"

"You weren't supposed to be wonderful." Michael answered softly, standing. "Damn it! I wasn't supposed to fall in love with you!" He exclaimed, now pacing quickly back and forth across the room.

"You love me?"

"Yes." Michael stopped, facing a wall. "They say absence makes the heart grow fonder; it's true. When we were apart, Sara, not a day went by that I didn't think about you, or regret what happened. Every time I closed my eyes, I could see your face! Every time I breathed, it physically _hurt_ me because I wasn't with you, and I knew that I had screwed things up so badly between us."

"Michael-"

Michael turned around. "It's terrible, Sara, but I was so incredibly happy when you said that the federal agent prevented you from coming back." He walked over closer to the doctor. "I don't know what he did to you, but all I know is that you didn't leave me because you wanted to." Michael lowered his voice to a whisper now. "Right now, I can barely think straight, because I love you so much that just being around you is intoxicating."

Sara looked up at him for a moment, eyes searching his face for some hint as to how she was supposed to react. She certainly didn't know. On the one hand, Sara was mad at him for everything he had done; for lying to her, for using her, for making her overdose. But at the same time, Sara cared just as much about him as he cared for her. Their time apart had hurt her every bit as badly as it had hurt him.

Sara stepped forwards carefully, and placed her hands lightly on his shoulders. His eyes silently questioned her, asking her if she was sure this was what she wanted. Her own eyes shut gracefully as their lips met. After a few seconds, Michael wrapped his arms around her and began to kiss her back.

They kissed passionately for several minutes, scarcely pausing even for air. "Michael?"

"Mmm?" Came the muffled reply.

"I love you too." Sara said softly. Michael froze, and tilted his head so he could see her face clearly.

"Thank you." Michael murmured.

"For what?" Sara asked, staring up at him.

"For giving me a chance." Michael replied, stooping down to kiss her again. Sara smiled faintly, before beginning to pull at Michael's shirt. When she had gotten it off, Michael lifted hers carefully over her head. Both of them would have liked to truly savor this, and they were going quicker than either of them would have liked for their first time, but Michael and Sara knew their time was limited for now.

"Sara? What happened to your arm?" Michael asked, referring to the stitches on her arm.

"Later." Was the reply. "Don't ask about the bruises, either." She added. Michael couldn't see any other marks besides the one on her arm; it was too dark in the room.

Suddenly the door to the hotel room swung open. "Woah, sorry!" Sucre exclaimed, shutting the door as quickly as he could. Sara and Michael broke apart now, staring at the door.

"Did he just…."

"Yeah." Michael answered. "Sara, we shouldn't do this now."

"No."

"The mood is, uh, kind of ruined now."

"Yeah." A pause. "I think I'm just going to go to sleep."

"Okay."

"Good night."

"Good night Sara." Michael turned and headed towards the door. "Sara? I love you."

"I love you too." She called after him, as he shut the door.

Michael burst into his and Sucre's room. "What the hell have I _ever_ done to you?" Michael snapped at Fernando.

Sucre held his hands up defensively. "Our shower ain't working." Sucre replied. "Plus, you said you were just going to talk to her. You and I must have very different definitions of talking, 'cause that didn't look like a conversation to me."

Michael massaged his forehead with his fingers, irritated with himself. He knew it wasn't really Sucre's fault. In fact, he should probably be thanking his former cell mate for coming in when he did. Michael knew Sara deserved better than this. And there was the small fact that Michael was pretty sure that Sara still had some angst to get out of her system before their relationship could be stable again. He sighed. This wasn't going at all like he planned.

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After Kate cleaned up Lincoln's cut, they had continued to drive away from Berino, taking turns driving until both of them were too exhausted to continue. They eventually stopped near a small, abandoned house, and slept for a few short hours. When they started moving again, the sun was rising. Kate and Lincoln had each made a few desperate attempts at conversation, about neutral topics such as the weather, which all ultimately failed, leaving them in silence. They stopped briefly once for lunch, and at eleven at night when again, they were both too weary to drive safely any more.

After driving for about an hour, Lincoln cleared his throat. Following a day of silence, the noise startled Kate a little. She glanced at him, before looking back out the window.

"I have a cell waiting for me back at Fox River if I want quiet." Lincoln began, shifting his hands on the wheel. "So please. I don't care what you talk about, but please, talk." He begged.

Kate arched an eyebrow. This certainly was unexpected. "What do you want to talk about?" She asked.

"Anything."

She thought for a moment. "How did you break out of prison?" She asked finally.

Lincoln looked over at her briefly. "Er... I'd rather not talk about that." He said, uncomfortable with the thought of explaining the details of their escape to her then. Lincoln cast about silently for a conversation topic not involving him or Michael. "Okay, why did you want to be a doctor?"

Kate stared out the window. "When I was six, my dad died. He had an aortic aneurysm-a bubble attached to a major artery- and it burst and he bled to death internally within a few minutes. We didn't know about the aneurysm before it burst, but that's not unusual. My mom was devastated. She started smoking again-she'd quit when she had me. She has advanced lung cancer now, and is in hospice care." She spoke in a voice that portrayed her past in a factual, cold way that did not invite sympathy. "Mom was never the same after Dad died. I decided then that I wanted to help spare people that kind of pain, so I decided to be a doctor."

"Where'd you go to school?" Lincoln prompted, not wanting the conversation to stop now that it had begun.

"University of New Mexico, then Harvard Med School." Kate replied nonchalantly. "I was second in my class at Harvard." She added casually, as though it was unimportant.

Lincoln sent her a confused look. "So how does one of Harvard's top students end up in some hospital in the middle of nowhere?" He asked. "Minan-Hatford isn't exactly famous for its health care."

"My mom lives there. Like I said, she's in hospice care. We found out that her cancer returned right after I took my medical exams, and we knew it was serious, so I chose a program close to her." Kate answered. She shrugged. "She's dying, so I wanted to be there."

Lincoln was silent for a moment, digesting this. "She could die while you're with us?" He asked. Kate nodded in response, still staring at the landscape that was passing by; Lincoln suspected that she was fighting tears, despite her casual manner. Suddenly he didn't want to make her talk any more. Lincoln felt bad enough now about keeping her from her dying mother without forcing her to do stuff she didn't want to.

"You and that other man… Michael? Are you two brothers?" Kate asked a few minutes later.

Lincoln glanced over at her, surprised. Apparently the doctor wanted conversation also. "Yeah."

"You don't look a lot alike."

"I guess not."

"What did you do for a living? Before jail?" Kate asked.

"Michael was an architect." Lincoln replied.

"I didn't mean Michael." Kate said, grinning slightly. "I meant _you_. What did you do?"

"I… did a lot of stuff, most of it bad."

"Like what?"

Lincoln saw out of the corner of his eye that she was facing him now, seeming genuinely interested. He sighed. "I borrowed ninety grand years ago. I pretty much did anything that paid, legal or not, to try to pay it back."

"What were the ninety thousand dollars for?"

"For Michael. Our mom died, and our dad wasn't there…" Lincoln trailed off momentarily, thinking about the shabby grave by the side of the road where they had buried their father just four days ago. "He was always the brains, I was always the muscles. I wanted to give him a chance to go to school."

Kate arched an eyebrow, surprised. She'd figured that the money had been for drugs or something. "That was nice of you."

Lincoln shrugged. "Until he got me out of prison, I figured I'd never have to buy him a birthday present again."

Kate laughed unexpectedly. Lincoln looked at her, before grinning and chuckling a little himself.

* * *

At around two, Michael, Sara, and Sucre stopped at a rest station. They'd been driving pretty much all day, and needed a chance to stretch their legs. "I'll be back." Sucre announced, going to find a payphone, probably to call Maricruz. 

"Should we... talk?" Michael asked Sara a moment later.

Sara frowned at her reflection in the car window. "I don't know." She said finally.

"I know last night was, uh, hard." Michael said. "But we almost-"

"I know what we almost did."

"I don't want to disappoint you, Sara." He admitted. "I don't want to say I'll be here, and not be able to follow through."

She looked up at him. "I'm not worried about that. I just want you to be honest with me."

"I can be honest." Michael vowed, stepping closer to her and taking her hands in his.

"Are you sure?" Sara asked. Michael nodded. "Is there anything I need to know, then?"

"Well, I was never in love with Nika."

"Oh?"

"No. She needed citizenship, and I needed a favor for getting out."

"Oh."

Michael nodded.

"Anything else?"

Michael was silent for a moment, wracking his mind for anything else that could potentially screw up their relationship. "Not- wait, no, there is one more thing." He paused, waiting for Sara to nod for him to continue. "Did your father leave you something? Anything that maybe he didn't want people to find?"

Sara's eyes narrowed, and Michael's stomach sank as he realized that he had definitely said the wrong thing. "That's what 'Not Lance' wanted to know." She said sharply.

"Who's 'Not Lance'?"

Sara waved off his question. "Is that all anybody needs me for? Is that what last night was? Just some attempt to get whatever the hell my father may have given me?"

"No, Sara, of course not!" Michael realized he had raised his voice slightly, and lowered it. "I love you, Sara. Your father had something, something that could expose the Company, which framed Lincoln, and led to all of this. If we expose them, everything goes back to normal." Sara stared doubtfully up at him. "Sara, I promise you, I wasn't lying to you when I said I love you, I wasn't trying to get something from you."

She sighed. "Here comes Sucre. We should get moving again."

"Sara?" Michael said, holding on to her hand. She turned and looked back at him. "I'm sorry for what this has done." He said, gaze piercing.

"I love you Michael. Just please, please don't mess this up. I can't take that."

"I know." Michael and Sara got back into the car, and were followed by Sucre momentarily, who was humming happily.

* * *

"You got a boyfriend?" Lincoln asked, a few hours after their discussion had begun. They'd talked nonstop since then, which Lincoln found to be a refreshing chage. 

"A fiancé." Kate replied, shrugging.

Lincoln looked at her left hand, and was surprised to see it was bare. "Where's your ring?"

"I never wear it at the hospital. Too many opportunities for it to get lost."

"Oh." Lincoln was silent for a moment. This conversation had taken an awkward turn, as far as he was concerned. "When's the wedding?" Kate shifted uncomfortably in her seat, but didn't answer. "Come on. It's not like I'm going to be there or anything. What's the date?"

"We don't have one yet."

"How long have you two been engaged?" Kate mumbled something inaudible. "Yeah, I couldn't hear that."

"Seven months." She repeated, staring straight ahead.

Lincoln laughed softly. "You've been engaged seven months and haven't set a date? I'm no expert, but I'm pretty sure that means that something's wrong in your relationship."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Lincoln looked at her as he said this. She was looking out the window again. "Look, do you love him?" She shrugged. "Come on, it's a yes or no question. Either you do or you don't."

"I don't know." Kate replied, sounding thoughtful. Lincoln thought briefly that it was a little strange that she didn't object to his examination of her personal life, given that he had kidnapped her, but he wasn't about to comment on it. Anything to keep the conversation rolling.

"How can you not know?" He asked.

"I just… I don't know. I always thought that I would, you know? In every movie, they just _know_ somehow that they're absolutely in love with the other person. Like in the fairy tales, the happily ever after kind of love, love that could overcome time, distance, or anything. I just… that's not what I feel." Kate finished, somewhat lamely, seeming almost self-conscious about what she just said.

"I don't think you love him, then. When I was with Veronica-" Lincoln cut off abruptly, as he memories of Veronica came flooding back, and he felt as though he'd just been hit in the stomach.

Kate carefully placed a hand on his forearm, where it laid on his armrest. "Are you okay?" She asked.

He turned to her, and was surprised by the concern that was so evident in her eyes. "Yeah. Sort of." He replied, turning back to the road. "She's just a former girlfriend of mine."

"Oh."

"Yeah." Again, an awkward silence. "Why are you going to marry him if you don't love him?"

Kate thought for a moment before replying. "He treats me right. He's a firefighter, so he understands long hours." She said, reverting back to the detached voice she'd used earlier, when describing her childhood. "He lives in Minan-Hatford. I think he loves me."

"Doesn't that bother you? Knowing he loves you, and you don't feel the same way?"

"I _do_ like him." Kate responded. "Just not love."

"Ah. If you met someone you loved, would you leave your fiancé?"

"Where am I going to meet someone, Lincoln?" She asked, in a tone that suggested she wanted to laugh again. "Everyone I know in Minan-Hatford is already settled down, or not worth settling down with."

"So leave."

"And go where?"

"I don't know. I'm sure someone with a Harvard background could find something."

"But my mom's here. Or, there, rather. I have an apartment, friends, a life there. Plus, Adam's not bad. That's his name, Adam. I just don't love him."

"You sound like you've thought this out."

"I have." Kate said. "I have this same argument with myself all the time." With that, a silence fell over the two of them. Kate was pondering her life, and so was Lincoln. He didn't think for a second that she was happy in Minan-Hatford with Adam, but Lincoln agreed with her reasons for staying. Ordinarily, he wouldn't care how she spent her life; it was, after all, her choice. But something about the doctor interested him. Lincoln thought back to two days ago, when she cleaned his cut, and the fluttery feeling. At the time, he'd considered it a bad thing, but now, it gave him hope that maybe, when this was all over, maybe he could have a somewhat normal life. If he could be attracted to somebody he barely knew, then there was hope that he could move past everything that had happened to him in the past three years.


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: Don't own it.

Please review!

* * *

"Michael?" Sara asked softly. "Are you awake?" After a long, silent moment, Michael confirmed that he was. "I'm sorry for how I treated you earlier. For the things I said."

"It's all right." Michael replied, after a brief hesitation. "Try and get some sleep."

Sara ignored him, and sat up. "You asked me if my father gave me anything. He didn't. But I found this, in my purse a couple days before we met up. I think it might be what you're looking for." She said, pulling a portable USB computer chip out of her jeans pocket. Sara handed it to Michael, who was laying on the couch. Michael examined it briefly, before setting it on a small table.

"We'll look at it in the morning." He decided. Sara nodded, and laid back down on the bed. A few minutes later, Michael spoke again.

"Sara?"

"Hmm?"

"What happened in Gila?"

Sara shut her eyes against the memories that had suddenly come flooding back. Images of what Lance had done to her-electrocuting her, nearly drowning her, jumping out of the window, stitching her arm herself-flashed quickly before her eyes. Suddenly all the scrapes and bruises she'd accumulated then hurt again, as though they were still fresh.

"Sara?"

"His name wasn't Lance. Not Lance. And he wasn't an addict." Sara said, voice dull.

"Who wasn't?"

"He said he was, after the breakout. I had to go to N.A., and he was there. I guess I thought he was sort of my friend. But he wasn't. He was a federal agent. I ran away, because I knew my father hadn't committed suicide: he'd been murdered. And then they were after me."

"Your father died?"

"Yeah."

"Sara, I'm so sorry."

"Thanks." There was a pause. "They were trying to kill me too, so I ran. I ran to Gila, to you. Like I said in the bar, your plan wasn't what I had in mind, so I was leaving. And then I realized... I realized that I couldn't leave you." Sara paused to rub her eyes. "When I got out of the car, he was there. Not Lance." She stopped again. As she told this all to Michael, it seemed to become more real again.

Michael perceived this, and stood up. He strode slowly over to the bed and sat down next to Sara. As she started to speak again, Michael rubbed small circles on the palm of her hand with his thumb.

Sara was talking faster now. "He had a gun, so I did what he said. He took me inside a hotel room, said he wanted something my father had given me. I didn't know what he meant, but he didn't believe me. So he brought me into the bathroom, filled the tub, and-" She broke off as her voice became too full of emotion to continue.

Michael pulled Sara gently into his arms, and rubbed her back supportively. "What happened then, Sara?" He asked gently.

Sara took a deep, shaky breath. "He tried to drown me. He electrocuted me." She said. Her eyes were scrunched shut, but several tears leaked out anyway. She didn't bother to wipe them away. Michael's arms tightened around her. "A man came to the door; I don't know what he wanted, but Not Lance went to talk to him. While he was gone, I escaped. I jumped out the window, and landed on a car windshield." Michael inhaled sharply at this. "Oh, no, really, if you're falling a long ways, you want to land on a windshield. It breaks your fall." She assured him. "I read it somewhere once. The windshield shatters, but it keeps you alive. And then I ran."

"That's what the stitches are from?" Sara nodded. "You didn't do them yourself, did you?"

"I'm a doctor, Michael."

"Still..." Michael paused, trying to absorb all of this. "Sara?"

"Hmm?"

"Last night... you said to ignore the bruises."

"Yeah." Sara answered after hesitating.

"Let me see." Michael ordered, now concerned. Sara glanced up at him. He nodded reassuringly. She straightened, and removed her t-shirt, leaving her white wifebeater on. This exposed a variety of half-healed cuts and bruises. After a brief hesitation, Sara lifted the tank top to her ribs, exposing dark bruises on her abdomen. "Damn!" Michael swore furiously. He stood up and began to pace angrily. "Son of a bitch..."

"Michael..."

"Sara, I'm so sorry this happened."

"I know, Michael. I know."

"Sara..." He breathed her name desperately.

"It's all right. It's all in the past." She insisted.

"Sara."

"Michael."

Michael came back over to her, and kissed her softly on the lips. He kissed her gently for several minutes, not wanting to hurt her. Michael rolled, and laid down next to her. Michael was almost asleep when Sara spoke again. "Mike?"

"Hmm?"

"I was a bitch today. I'm sorry."

Michael smiled faintly. "You've been through a lot. You're allowed to act like a bitch every now and then."

"Ay, is a little sleep too much to ask for?" Sucre asked, from several feet away in another bed. "What're you talking about that can't wait until morning?"

"We'll stop talking." Michael promised.

"I don't wanna hear nothin' else, neither." Sucre added, shuddering at the memories from the night before.

"Good night, Sucre." Sara said in an attempt to get them to stop arguing. She was suddenly exhausted. It had taken a lot out of her to explain everything to Michael.

"G'night Doc, Papi." Sucre replied. Michael shook his head at the sheer weirdness of the situation, before saying goodnight also.

* * *

"Make sure you get a-"

"Pair of sunglasses and a hat, yes, I know." Kate finished, smirking. They had gone over this plan at least half a dozen times since Lincoln had first suggested it.

"Oh, and don't try anything on. It'll take too long and it'll draw too much attention."

"Linc, it'll draw _less _attention if I do try some stuff on. I won't take forever, I promise."

Lincoln frowned, mulling this over before shrugging. "Okay. Remember. In five minutes, you go in. We'll meet back up in shoes." He said, opening his door. Kate nodded, and Lincoln got out of the car. He quickly made his way across the parking lot and into the store. They had decided that they needed a change of clothes. For one thing, Lincoln didn't have a shirt, only a jacket, since Kate was still wearing his, but also because their clothes would identify them. So Lincoln had located a store in a small, out-of-the-way town, and they had made their plan.

This came after spending the past two days talking, about anything and everything. Lincoln had continued to be reluctant to discuss Fox River and the circumstances surrounding his charges, and after a little prodding, Kate had given up and talked about something else. As a result of all this discussion, she felt like she'd known Lincoln for years, rather than the week that she actually had. She didn't know if Lincoln felt the same, but she _did _know that she felt like she'd told him about her entire life in that time.

In the store five minutes later, Kate quickly strode to the women's department, waving off any salespeople. She selected several garments almost immediately, and went into the dressing room, knowing that they were short on time.

"Kate?" Lincoln called a few minutes later.

Kate sighed. "What?"

"Are you almost ready?"

"Yeah, just give me a second." She replied. For a moment, Kate felt like she wasn't shopping for clothes to prevent them from being recognized and captured, but as though she was just at a mall with a man, who was being a typical guy and being impatient.

Outside the fitting room, Lincoln leaned against a wall. "It doesn't have to be perfect, you know." He remarked as the seconds ticked by and Kate didn't come out.

"I know." Kate replied, rolling her eyes. Shortly after, she walked out of the stall carrying a small stack of clothes. Kate set most of it on a rack outside, holding on to a pair of jeans, along with a t-shirt and a tank top. "Okay, let's..." She trailed off. Lincoln turned around to see what the source of her distress was, and saw that a small squad of police had entered the store. After speaking briefly with an employee, they began to fan out across the store, undoubtably searcing for Lincoln and Kate.

Lincoln swore. He grabbed Kate's arm and led her back into the fitting room, past the stalls, to a door labeled "Supplies". He twisted the nob, but quickly saw it was locked and swore again.

"Let me." Kate said, sliding in between Lincoln and the door. There was the sound of a key twisting, and then the door swung open.

"Where'd you get that?" He asked, glancing back over his shoulder to see if anyone was coming.

"I grabbed it off the attendant's desk when I saw the police." Kate answered, shifting guiltily. Lincoln shrugged; after everything he saw in Fox River, this minor thievery didn't even make it unto his radar. Kate returned the keys to the desk, and stepped inside. Lincoln quickly followed.

The room was pitch black, but from what Kate could tell, the small space was already crowded with various things. She made to step a little away from Lincoln, but accidentally knocked into a shelf, so instead she opted to just hold still.

"What's in there?" A voice outside asked a few moments later, muffled by the door.

"Just supplies, officer. Mops, disinfectant, the usual."

"Open it up."

"Sir, there's nobody in there. The keys haven't left this desk all day. See, here they are." There was the sound of keys jingling.

"Hmm. Okay, carry on."

Only now did either Kate or Lincoln dare to breath again. Obviously, they still had to stay in the closet for a few more minutes, until the police had left the building, but it seemed that they were out of danger for the time being. "There's gotta be a damn light switch here somewhere..." Lincoln muttered, feeling along the wall by the door with one hand.

For no particular reason, at this moment, Kate become very aware of how close they were standing to each other, close enough that he could feel his body heat, that she could feel his warm breath on the back of her neck everytime he exhaled, and suddenly that was enough to make her heart speed up. Even though it should have been the last thing on her mind right, all she could do was wonder what it would be like to kiss Lincoln Burrows.

Through this daze, she realized that her right foot had fallen asleep where it was wedged between two boxes. Kate shifted, and turned carefully so she was facing him, but still managed to accidentally slam her forehead into a shelf. She inhaled sharply, which caused Lincoln to turn his attention away from the lights to her.

"You okay?" He asked, unconciously placing a hand on her arm just above her elbow to steady her.

"Yeah... yeah, I'm fine." She replied slowly. His action had an adverse effect: the physical contact was making her rather dizzy, as though she was floating.

"Are you sure?"

"Uh huh." Kate said. "I just hit my head..."

"Oh."

Suddenly the lights flashed on, as Lincoln's other hand had found the switch. Kate's face turned a rather unflattering shade of pink as she realized just how close his mouth was to her own, only about an inch separating them. For a moment, they stood frozen, both too surprised to move away, but neither brave enough to close the gap. Then Lincoln cleared his throat awkwardly. "We should go." He said softly, staring intently at her.

"Go?" Kate echoed.

Lincoln nodded. "Go." He stepped away from her, breaking the spell of the moment, and pulled open the door. After checking to be sure that there were no police or employees around, Lincoln stepped out of the closet. He held the door open while Kate followed more slowly, and then shut it quietly. "If we leave now, we might be able to avoid being spotted."

"Yeah, yeah, okay." She snatched up a pair of sunglasses and a baseball cap, and turned to Lincoln. "Here, give me your stuff. You go wait in the car, and I'll pay." She offered. Lincoln considered this for a moment, and then nodded.

"Stupid cops... come in, scare all the customers..." The clerk was muttering angrily under his breath as Kate approached. She gave him a small, sympathetic smile before ducking her head slightly to prevent him from getting a good look at her face. "Sorry 'bout them. They said they'd already checked all the hotels in town, but wouldn't even tell us what they were looking for."

"Mmm. Thanks." Kate said, picking up the bag and walking away.

Lincoln had pulled the car up to the entrance, to prevent Kate from having to walk unprotected across the parking lot. She quickly got in. "So I figure we'll drive for a couple hours tonight before stopping." Lincoln said. Kate glanced out the window, at the setting sun.

"The cashier said the police had already searched the hotels here." She said.

Lincoln thought about this for a moment, before shrugging. "We could find somewhere now, I guess."

"Your call."

"Let's stop, then. I'm tired, you've got to be tired. Let's just stop." Lincoln said, glancing over at her briefly. Kate looked up from sorting their purchases in time to catch him looking at her. They stayed like that for a moment, looking at each other, transfixed. Finally Lincoln cleared his throat and started to drive away.

* * *

Please review! 


	13. Chapter 13

So I discovered that Wentworth Miller is one of the guys in the "We Belong Together" music video by Mariah Carey. It made me laugh, and I wanted to tell everyone who doesn't already know, because I just thought it was so funny.

_Disclaimer: Unfortunately, none of the presents I opened on Christmas contained the rights to Prison Break._

_Just to clarify_: the part in the last chapter with Lincoln and Kate takes place the day after Michael and Sara talk about Gila (at the beginning of the last chapter). The part here at the beginning of this chapter with Sucre, Michael, and Sara takes place the same day as when Lincoln and Kate went shopping. The Lincoln and Kate part of this chapter occurs immediately following their adventures in the store.

I love the reviews that you guys give me. Keep 'em coming, please :)

* * *

"You wanna tell me where we're goin', or do you want me to guess?" Sucre asked Michael, who was sitting in the passenger's seat. Sara was in the back, leafing through a magazine they'd found in their last motel room. 

"We're going to Minnesota." Michael replied, examining the USB chip.

"What's in Minnesota?"

"Rain." Michael said, smiling cryptically.

"There's rain everywhere!"

"Not this kind of Rain." The man with the tattoos insisted, still smiling as though at a private joke.

When the sun began to set, Michael asked Sara to stop at a small gas station. She began to fill up the tank, while Michael headed off to the pay phone in the back. Sucre followed him.

"You should stay with the car." Michael said, not turning.

Sucre shook his head. "I trust you, Papi, but I want to know what's going on." Michael started to object, but thought better of it and remained silent. When they found the phone, the Latin man leaned against the brick wall while Michael dialed.

"What?" The voice on the other end asked, sounding annoyed.

"Hello, Bobby." Michael said, smirking.

"Who is this?"

"You remember my voice."

"I do?"

"You should."

"Sc-"

"Yes." Michael said, cutting him off. There was no way for him to know if this line was safe or not.

"You've been in the news a lot."

"I know." Michael paused. "I need a favor."

"Oh, no. No, no, no. No. You're not getting me involved. Do you know what I could get for helping you?"

"Yes. But there are bigger things at stake here. I need someone with your expertise."

There was a silence. "What do you need?" The voice sounded resigned. Michael grinned.

* * *

The sun was lingering halfway over the horizon, bathing the land in golden light. For all that the town claimed to have a population of nearly twenty thousand, there were only a handful of people in sight. A blue neon sign lit up abruptly, revealing the words, "The Cacti Hotel" next to an old, dusty looking building. A dark car pulled into the parking lot, reflecting both the light of the sun and the light from the sign, and parked in an empty space near the entrance to the lobby. Two people exited the car, but only one of them went inside. 

As Kate walked out of the building, she pulled her sunglasses off, looking around. After a moment, the doctor stepped forwards a few feet, and discovered that Lincoln was just hiding in the shadows between a column and a wall. "They didn't recognize you." Lincoln remarked as they walked towards their room.

The blonde woman shook her head. "They didn't even have a picture of anyone at the desk." She replied, adjusting her dark baseball hat.

Upon entering their room, which Kate noted contained two queen-sized beds, she turned on the tv. She wanted to know how things were looking for her, how the search was going. Kate still didn't have a clue as to how she was going to get herself out of this; for now, she was just trying not to slow Lincoln down as he tried to avoid the authorities. The doctor was no longer so certain that her word was enough to clear her name. She suspected that she needed much more solid, tangible evidence, but she wasn't going to find any considering she was willingly staying with one of the infamous Fox River 8 now.

"They think that you, Michael, Sara Tancredi, and Fernando are trying to get across the border." She said. Lincoln nodded. Then a silence set in, as neither of them could think of anything to say. This was particularly ironic, given how much they had talked during the past 48 hours, but that knowledge didn't make it any easier to start another conversation now. Both of them started to say something several times, but changed their minds before they finished the first word.

"I'm going to shower." Lincoln announced finally, shattering the silence. Kate nodded, not moving from her spot on one of the beds except to change the channel on the television.

Ten minutes later, Lincoln emerged from the shower. Kate couldn't help but notice that he hadn't put his shirt back on yet as he crossed the room. "Why do you always do that?" She asked, a bit crossly. Kate already was uncomfortable with how she'd felt earlier, in the store, and then again in the car, and seeing Lincoln half naked was just giving her more distressing thoughts, which, aside from him being one of the most wanted men in America, was a problem because she was engaged.

"Excuse me?" He glanced over his shoulder at her.

_Engaged_. "You did that at the Pink Sunset, and you did it again here." Kate replied. "You could put your shirt on in the bathroom, you know."

"Oh." Lincoln paused as he lifted the plastic bag containing their recently purchased clothes off the ground. _Engaged. _"I don't know, just a habit, I guess. Plus, this was out here still, so..."

As he rummaged through the bag, Kate shook her head slightly, more in frustration with herself than in exasperation with him. She wasn't supposed to feel _anything _towards him. The doctor stood up and walked over to where Lincoln stood with the bag, deciding that she might as well change too. "Here..." Lincoln handed Kate her new pair of pants when he encountered them in search for his clothes.

"Thanks." She murmured, as she accepted them. _So very engaged. _As Lincoln dug through the bag, their shoulders brushed together. He stiffened, as though burned, and stepped away from the bag. "Lincoln...?" Kate said, voice questioning.

"No. I don't...I shouldn't be thinking like this." Lincoln replied, turning away from her. "It's wrong."

"Thinking, like what?" Kate asked tenatively. _Engaged?_

He sighed irritably. "Like... like..." Lincoln was having difficulty finding a way to put this into words. "Like this." He quickly closed the distance between them again, and kissed her on the lips. "But that's not okay. It's just ridiculous." He said, when they broke apart. She stared up at him, too surprised to move. Lincoln began to pace, trying to think of a solution.

Kate watched him for a moment, dazed. "Lincoln..." She said, as she approached him.

He shook his head firmly. "I've already made an idiot out of myself." The man replied, pacing faster.

"Lincoln!" Kate snapped. He turned and stared at her. "Maybe... maybe it's not as ridiculous as you think." She took a few slow steps towards him.

"What do you mean?"

"Just this." Kate delicately placed her hands on his shoulders, stood up on her toes, and returned the kiss. As she made to pull away, Lincoln wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. They kissed for several minutes, both exploring and testing their feelings. Kate allowed Lincoln to lead her to one of the beds, and they collapsed onto it, their lips never breaking contact.

But then suddenly, Kate gave a muffled protest. He immediately froze, and shifted so she could sit up. "We... I-I need to think." She said, softly, making and maintaining eye contact.

"That's always the problem with intellectual people. They always need to think." Lincoln replied, equally as quiet and smiling faintly to indicate that he wasn't serious.

Kate shook her head. "I don't sleep with men on the first date. Never. Adam and I didn't do it for months. I need to think. This is just..."

"Too fast." Lincoln finished. Kate nodded. "All right." He stood up, but sat back down immediately. "I'm not like T-Bag. I'll never force you. I want to do this, but not if you don't want to. It should mean more than that. I'm not trying to pressure you. So, bearing that in mind, just listen, okay?" Lincoln paused, allowing her to nod. "When you're on death row, eventually you make your peace with what's coming, because you don't have any alternatives. And even though prison life hardly compares to life outside those walls, it's _something_. People die there, every day, in fights, in accidents... in electric chairs. While you're there, especially when you're sentenced to death, you realize how important it is to live for today, that you can't get by just by planning for tomorrow. Because if tomorrow doesn't come, if today's all you have, you better have done something with it. We're on the run right now. If they find us, they will kill us. I'm not trying to scare you, but it's the truth. If they find us tomorrow, that's it." He hesitated momentarily. "We're short on time, so if the possibility of you and me is something that you think you might want to pursue, then you need to make sure that you don't only live for tomorrow. Sometimes you gotta live for today." With that, Lincoln stood up and crossed the room. He stayed standing for a moment, before finally laying down on the other bed.

Kate stared straight ahead, thinking. Thinking about herself, about Lincoln, about what he said, about the possibility of them. She glanced over at the man, who was laying on his back, one arm over his eyes, most likely thinking about what had just happened. Kate bit her lip anxiously, trying to make a decision.

"Linc?" Her voice startled him out of his thoughts. Lincoln slowly lifted his arm, and peered under it to where she now sat on the foot of his bed. "I want to live for today."

* * *

He was sprinting through the forest, running from someone... someone with a gun. "You can't run forever, Scofield!" Alexander Mahone's voice shouted, seeming to come from all directions at once. "And when you stop, we'll find you!" Michael paused, between tall, thick trees, catching his breath. 

A gun fired, the bullet narrowly missing his head. Michael took off again, but before he'd gone ten yards, he tripped over a fallen tree branch, which sent him sprawling into a pile of leaves. When he had brushed the foliage out of his face, the agent was standing in front of him, gun poised.

"Michael?"

Michael's eyes fluttered open and he sat up immediately. Sara's face loomed in front of him. "Are you okay?" She asked, noticing the alarm on his face.

"Yeah... just a nightmare."

"It's one thirty in the morning. I'm too tired to drive anymore. If you want to take over, that's fine, but I don't want to end up in a ditch." Michael yawned, stetching stiffly. "Do you want to drive?"

"Nah... find somewhere out of the way and park. Sucre's out too. We can all use some rest."

Sara nodded again, and shifted the car out of park and into drive. "Michael?" Michael transfered his gaze from out the window at the dark landscape to her. "Who is your contact?"

"A man named Rain." He replied.

"Can we... can we trust him?"

"I think so."

"How do you know him?"

"He was my roommate, in college." Michael smiled at the memories.

"Good times?"

Michael laughed. "Terrible times. We were both overworked, exhausted, and broke."

Sara smiled faintly. "Why are we going to him?"

"The computer chip you gave me contains audio recordings of important figures in the government that proves that the Company has corrupted much of Washington."

"Which does what?" She asked as she parked the car next to a tree a couple hundred yards away from the road.

"Well, if we can get the general public to believe this, we stand a good chance of proving that Lincoln was framed by this conspiracy."

"And this Rain can help with that?"

"He's a computer genius. If anyone can find a way to get these recordings out there, and make sure people hear this, he can." Michael explained.

* * *

The sun had set a long time ago, leaving the hotel room completely dark. At some point in the future, whenever housekeeping came to pick up the room, they would no doubt think it was strange that only one of the two beds in the room showed any signs of use, but the two people currently laying on their backs on one bed in the room weren't thinking about that. Indeed, they weren't thinking of the future at all. 

_'I just slept with a convicted killer!' _Kate thought anxiously, rubbing her fingers along the edge of the sheet where the blanket was wrapped around her.

"Three years was a long time." Lincoln remarked, staring at the ceiling, hands behind his head.

"Yeah." She replied sleepily. "No decent food, no holidays, no contact with the outside world for three years."

He turned his head towards her. "I meant to not have sex." He said, grinning.

Kate laughed softly. As they sank back into silence, T-Bag's words came back to her. _"He wouldn't have shot me anyway, Lovely. This 'un ain't a killer." _"Lincoln?"

"Hmm?"

"You didn't kill that man, did you? Terrence Steadman?" She asked, rolling on her side to watch his face.

He turned his head, looking her in the eye. "No." He answered somberly.

Kate maintained eye contact for another moment, before moving closer to him and snuggling up against his chest. "I'm glad." She murmured. He smiled tiredly, and rubbed her back with one hand. Within a few minutes, both of them were asleep, too exhausted from the events of the past couple of days to stay awake.

* * *

Please review! 


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: So I had a totally random burst of creativity when I was writing my last disclaimer. Tragically, I have been struck by no such artistic mood today, so we'll just leave it at this: I don't own Prison Break.

Reviews are like smiles: everybody can give them, they're free, and greatly appreciated.

* * *

The first coherent thought Kate had upon waking up was that the hotel room smelled like coffee. This was enough to get her to sit up, carefully keeping the blanket wrapped around her. She ran a hand through her hair and looked around for a moment, searching for the source of the scent, eventually seeing a cup of coffee standing on a small table near the television, still steaming. Coffee at this hour would be good. Wait- what hour was it? Kate glanced at the alarm clock beside the bed: 9:42 a.m. Okay, so it wasn't as early as she'd originally thought, but still, as one accustomed to the hours of a surgical resident, coffee was _always_ good. 

"Hey." Lincoln said, stepping out of the bathroom, fully dressed.

"Good morning." She replied groggily.

After a brief moment of silence, Lincoln said, "I, uh, I got you coffee. I wasn't sure what you wanted, so I just got regular."

"That's fine." Kate swung her feet over the side of the bed and stood up, still clutching the blanket. She walked slowly over to the table, and picked up her coffee. She took a long sip, and smiled faintly.

"So, last night..."

"Last night." Kate repeated, still savoring her coffee.

"Do you regret it?"

"Do you?"

"I asked you first." He pointed out.

"How do I know that you're not going to change your answer when you hear mine?" Kate countered.

"You'll just have to trust me."

"Or, you could just go first."

"How do I know _you_ won't change your answer?"

"You'll just have to trust me." Kate replied, grinning. He stared at her. "Okay, here." She tossed a small notepad towards him, followed by a pen. Kate lifted another notepad and a pen. "Write down your answer. Do you regret last night?" Kate instructed. She wrote her answer down without looking at the paper, because she was looking at Lincoln the whole time, which was acceptable because he was looking at her.

"This is stupid." Lincoln remarked, staring at her. She nodded. "Ready?" He asked. Kate nodded again. Simultaneously they turned their notepads around. The word "no" was written on both pages.

* * *

"Mahone." 

"Where are you right now, Alex?"

"Chicago. At the Bureau."

"Hard at work on the Fox River 8, I trust?"

"Yes."

"How's your head healing?"

"Just fine." Alexander Mahone replied, rubbing a finger along a line of stitches along his jaw. He had Lincoln Burrows to thank for the five similiar lines on his face, all from the same bottle of vodka.

"That's good. I need you to do something for me." Mr. Kim paused, but Alex remained silent. "I need to you get to Minnesota as quickly as you can. Scofield might be meeting someone there."

"You want me to leave things here, where we are making progress in tracking down where the rest of the escapees are, to go where Scofield _might_ be?" Mahone asked, astounded.

"Are you turning me down, Alex?" William Kim's voice was full of false kindness.

Alex sighed in exasperation and shifted the phone to his other ear. "No, I'm very busy here, so I'm just wondering why somebody else can't handle it. Like Kellerman. He's capable. Send Kellerman."

"I asked you to do this." Bill said coldly. There was a silence. "But you know what, Alex, that's not a half bad idea. We'll contact Paul. You're right; he is capable. He should be able to handle this, even if he's proved incompetent in other tasks."

"Thank you." Alex said, surprised.

"No, no, thank _you_."

* * *

Sunlight was streaming in through the window, creating a lazy, peaceful atmosphere in the hotel room. Both of its occupants were, again, in one of the beds. "Thank you for saying no." Lincoln said softly, playing with several strands of her hair. 

Kate smiled. "I'm just glad you returned the favor." Kate replied.

Suddenly Lincoln frowned. "That's not from me, is it?" He asked, referring to a bruise on her neck. Kate immediately brought a hand up to cover it, face turning pink.

She closed her eyes. "No." She replied. "It's from T-Bag."

Lincoln slammed his fist into the mattress on his other side, swearing furiously. "Lincoln, just calm-"

Both of them immediately fell silent as a voice outside the door called, "Housekeeping!" The lock clicked, and the door opened, revealing a young woman standing in front of a cart containing cleaning supplies. "Oh!" She pressed a hand instantly over her eyes, as she saw them in bed, obviously not dressed. "I'm so, so sorry!"

Kate's back was to the door, and Lincoln had wisely ducked his head, to prevent him from being recognized. "It's okay. Just, could you come back later?" Kate asked.

"Yeah, sure thing." The maid replied, still covering her eyes. She shut the door quickly.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Indeed, they barely breathed as they realized how close that had been. And then- "You didn't put a 'Do Not Disturb' sign on the door, did you?" Kate asked wryly. Lincoln shook his head, and both of them collapsed into peals of laughter.

* * *

A couple hundred miles away and several hours later, when Michael, Sara, and Sucre arrived in the moderately-sized town in central Minnesota that Rain lived in, they found that Logan's Diner was bustling. "You two wait outside." Michael ordered, not liking how many people were around. 

"Michael-"

"Please. It's safer if you wait here." Sara fell silent. She kissed him quickly, and then walked away with Sucre. They went back to wait in the car.

Michael, on the other hand, adjusted his hat and sunglasses, and boldly entered the agreed meeting place. "Welcome to Logan's! Just you?" A young waitress asked, walking up to him.

"There'll be two of us." Michael replied, glancing around and not seeing his friend.

"Right this way." She led him to a table by the counter.

"Actually, would it be possible to have that table?" Michael asked, pointing to a table in a more secluded corner of the restaraunt.

"Sure." The waitress shrugged indifferently. "Can I start you off with something to drink?"

"Some coffee would be fantastic." Michael said. How long had it been since his last cup of coffee? It would have been before the breakout, before Fox River, so months ago. He wondered briefly if he would still like how it tastes. A lot of things he used to like before prison now seemed worthless. Michael knew he had changed there, perhaps irreversibly.

"Here you go, sir." The waitress set a cup of coffee down in front of him, causing his thoughts to scatter. "Would you like to order now?"

"No thanks. I'm still waiting for my friend to show." He replied, taking a sip of his coffee. Michael smiled faintly; it still tasted good.

"How long has he been gone?" Sara later asked, from where she was laying in the backseat.

"Almost two hours." Sucre replied, sounding as though he was about to scream out of boredom. "What do you think is taking him so long?"

"He didn't come." Michael announced, sounding bitter and opening a door to the car. Sara sat up.

Sucre glanced at him. "What now?" Michael frowned, and got into the car, thinking.

* * *

"This is it." Michael proclaimed, as the car came to a stop in front of a large, six-story brick building. "He lives in number 36." Michael got out of the car, and was quickly followed by Sara and Sucre. They entered, and took the stairs up to the third floor. It was the third door on the right. 

Michael knocked on the door. "Bobby? You there?" He called. There was no response. Michael knocked again, and got the same result. He twisted the nob, and the door swung open to reveal an apartment that looked like a tornado had hit.

"Who could have done this?" Sara asked, staring at the chaos.

Michael smirked. "Bobby. He's the messiest person I know."

"Oh."

He gestured for Sara to stay behind him. "But he _always _locks his door." Michael added apprehensively. They slowly went deeper into the apartment, trying to avoid stepping on any of the junk on the floor.

"I think that you'll agree, I've been a fairly nice guy." A voice that was definitely not Bobby's said. Sara froze. "Up until now. This is your last chance to tell me anything that you might want to, oh, get anything off your chest." Michael signaled for them to be silent, before continuing towards the back of the apartment. "No?" There was the sound of a fist colliding with human flesh, followed by a cry of pain. Many similiar shouts of agony echoed through the apartment as Michael and Sucre rushed forward. Sara hung back, leaning against the wall, biting her lip.

The eyes of the tall, almost unnaturally skinny man tied to the chair grew wide as he saw Michael over the shoulder of the man attacking him. This caused the agent to turn around. "Michael Scofield." The man said, sounding remarkably pleased. Michael wasted no time explaining before lunging forwards and attacking the agent. He pulled a gun out of his jacket, but Sucre yanked it away from him. Together, the former cellmates wrestled the federal agent to the ground. They bound his hands and feet, and Sucre sat on him while Michael stood.

"Are you okay, Bobby?" He asked the man on the chair. Bobby Rain nodded. Michael turned his attention back to the agent. "Name." The agent hesitated. "Name!"

"Paul Kellerman." He answered, anxiously eyeing Sucre, who was pointing the gun at him.

"Who do you work for?"

"United States Secret Service."

Michael exchanged looks with Sucre. He took a moment to think, before asking his next question. While he did this, Sara crept into the room.

"Hello, _Paul._" She snapped bitterly, stepping on the agent's chest and twisting her foot slightly. The agent screamed, before passing out.

Michael stared at Sara, eyes wide. "What happened?" He asked.

Sara stared down at the agent. She stooped, and ripped his shirt open, exposing a half-healed burn in the shape of an iron on his chest. It was now bleeding and pussing, not in a life-threatening manner, but enough that she knew she had caused an incredible amount of pain. _Good,_ she thought. _He deserves it._

"How did you-"

"Now's not the time, Michael." She cut him off. Sara strode over to where Bobby Rain said, and cut his bonds. "Where did he hit you?" She asked softly.

"She's a doctor." Michael explained, setting the gun down on Bobby's cluttered desk. Bobby nodded, and pointed to his ribs and the side of his head. Everyone was silent for a moment, as Sara examined him.

"You'll be fine. Ice those spots a bit; they'll bruise. But you'll be okay." She said. Bobby nodded.

"I'm glad you came when you did." Bobby said to Michael.

"Me too." Everybody turned around, and saw Kellerman standing, holding the gun. He seemed to not notice that his shirt was hanging off him. Michael and Sucre were on him again instantly. Sara grabbed the gun from Paul when Michael slammed the agent's hand repeatedly on the desk. Finally, Paul put his hands up in surrender. Michael and Sucre stood, allowing the agent to do the same. "Thank you." Kellerman said, glancing at them all. His eyes lingered on Sara. "Good to see you again, Sara." The agent then lept backwards, crashing through a large window and falling out of the building.

They all rushed forwards, and saw the agent land in a dumpster almost thirty feet below. His body was sprawled limply across several bags of garbage. "I've never seen nobody survive a fall like that." Sucre said, in hushed tones.

"Me neither!" Bobby quicky volunteered. Michael stared down at the agent for another moment, before turning to Bobby.

"I'm sorry about this." He said. "I'll understand if you don't want to help."

"Not help? Are you kidding?" Bobby laughed. "Of course I'll still help! If all this trouble is over what you have to say, it seems to me that the sooner it surfaces the better. Just try and silence me! That son of a bitch'll know he picked the wrong computer geek to mess with soon enough! Just let me call the police and report the guy... Oh." Bobby grinned shakily as he realized that calling the police with three wanted people in his apartment would be a bad idea. Michael smiled faintly. "Of course I'll help!"

He slid the computer chip out of his pocket. "This is what I need help with." He said. Michael carefully tossed it to his friend, who caught it deftly. "I'm glad you're so enthusiastic."

Bobby glanced up at him. "It's the right thing to do." Michael didn't respond, as Bobby turned back to the chip.

"Hey, Papi!" Sucre called, from his spot near the window. "Paul, his body's gone." Michael strode over, and stared down. True enough, the agent was no longer in the dumpster.

* * *

Sucre was in the kitchen, seeing about food, leaving Michael and Sara alone in the living room while Bobby worked in his "office" with the data from Sara. After shifting piles of stuff out of the way, they sat down on a couch. 

"How did you know Kellerman?" Michael asked softly, after a moment.

Sara sighed into her cup of tea. "He was the guy in Gila."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry."

"I know." Sara paused. "Has Bobby always been so..."

"Naive?" Michael suggested. Sara shrugged.

"He's very concerned with helping us because he thinks we're right, and thinks nothing bad will come to him because he's doing the right thing."

"Naive."

"I guess."

"Yeah." Michael paused. "I used to be, too."

"What happened?"

Michael smiled grimly. "My brother got framed for murder, remember?"

* * *

Please review! 


	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer:: I think that just typing the word "disclaimer" is a pretty good indication that I don't own Prison Break...

* * *

"Okay. The good news is that I can ensure that a lot of people hear this." Bobby Rain said, entering the room. Sara lifted her head off of Michael's shoulder as he leaned forwards, resting his elbows on his knees. Sucre stopped pacing, and turned to face the rest of the people in the room. Seeing Kellerman's body disappear had made him very reluctant to stay in the apartment.

"How?"

"I hack into major news databases-Fox, for one. I'll write an article explaining the clips, and put that and the clips on the website, for everybody to hear. Plus, I can make sure that these make the evening news reports on television across the nation." Bobby outlined his plan.

Michael nodded. "What's the bad news?"

"It won't be ready for at least a week."

"A week?" Michael repeated, surprised. Bobby nodded. Michael stood. "What's going to take so long?"

"Well, see, I'm not going to have time."

"Time? What happened to being so enthusiastic? You were all for going after them immediately when Kellerman attacked you."

"How long has it been since you had to show up for _your_ job?" Bobby countered wryly.

"What?"

"I gotta work, Mike." Rain said, shifting his feet. "Today's Sunday, and I work Monday through Friday." Michael sighed.

* * *

Several days had passed, but the "Do Not Disturb" sign was still on the door of room 123. The only people who noticed had been the maids, and even they hadn't remarked on it much, except to express relief at one fewer rooms to clean. Inside 123, both Lincoln and Kate were fully dressed (for a change), laying on the bed and staring at a scrap of paper. "Maybe if you read it backwards...?" Kate suggested, writing the letters in reverse order on a notepad. It was still meaningless. "Gah. I've never been good at these types of things." 

"That's Michael for you. Tends to forget that not everybody is so good at decoding things." Lincoln grumbled. They were trying to solve the clue Michael had given them for where they were meeting next before Mahone had found them in Berino, but they'd been working on it for several hours now, with no success.

"Is there any way for us to contact him?" She asked, tossing the pen down in frustration.

Lincoln shrugged. "His cell, but they probably are listening in on any calls he gets. Plus, we'd have to go somewhere away from here to find a payphone so they don't trace it back to here." They both considered their options for a moment. "You up for a road trip?" Lincoln asked her, grinning slightly.

"Have you ever been to Chicago?" Lincoln asked a little while later in the car. 

"Nope." Kate replied. "Do you want me to go left or right up here?" She asked, as they passed a sign that indicated that the road split up ahead.

"Go right. You should come to Chicago sometime." She glanced doubtfully at him. "When this is all over, you should come. It's nice there."

"I"ll keep that in mind." Kate said, smiling slightly.

"You'd say we know a lot about each other, right?" Lincoln said, a moment later. She nodded in agreement. "I have to tell you something else about myself. I probably should have told you sooner, but we were doing the "live for today" thing, and by telling you this, I'm sort of allowing for a tomorrow. Promise me you won't panic?" Lincoln asked, watching her face carefully to see her reaction.

"What could be worse than finding out you were convicted of murder?"

"Fair point." He paused. "I have a son."

Kate raised her eyebrows. "A son." She repeated. "You're right, you should have told me sooner."

"His name's LJ." Lincoln offered, breaking the brief, tense silence.

"LJ?"

"Lincoln Junior."

"Oh. How old is he?"

"Sixteen." He answered immediately. Kate thought he sounded proud, as though managing to get his son all the way to sixteen was a major accomplishment. "You seemed surprised."

Kate shrugged. "I thought he'd be a little younger, that's all. Where is he now?"

"In Colorado. Somewhere safe."

"With his mother?" She asked. Lincoln shook his head. "Are you and his mother-"

"No. We haven't been together in years. I mean, we tried to make it work, for LJ, but we just weren't right." Lincoln hesitated. "She's dead now, anyway. They killed her."

"Oh. I'm sorry." Kate said, sincerely. Lincoln waved off her sympathy.

"I wanted you to know about him." He said, staring straight ahead at the road again. Kate gazed over at him, and realized that he wanted more than that. He didn't just want her to know of LJ, he wanted her to accept his son, to like LJ. This wasn't just another conversation topic, or an inconveniant fact of his life; not to him anyway. No, this was important to him, she realized, for some reason that she couldn't understand. _Probably has something to do with being a parent,_ Kate reasoned. And as difficult as this was for her to swallow, it had to be harder to have to be the one to explain it.

"I'm glad you told me." Kate commented, forcing a smile for Lincoln's sake. "What is he like?" The relief that spread over Lincoln's face as he began to describe his son proved that she had hit the nail on the head.

* * *

After driving for a little more than two hours, Kate and Lincoln stopped at a rest station, one with a pay phone. Kate stood nearby while Lincoln dialed. "Hey, it's me." Lincoln said, when Michael answered his cell phone. 

"How's it going?" Michael asked, careful not to reveal any information that he didn't have to. He knew that this call was likely being listened to by people besides him and his brother.

"Not too bad." Lincoln replied, sending a grin Kate's way. She returned it, and moved towards him. He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her even closer.

"What's up then?"

"Your clue. We've only got three days to figure it out and get there. We're both stuck." Lincoln answered.

"Forget about the clue. Something's come up. The plan has changed. Remember where we met Dad last?" Michael asked.

"Yeah."

"We'll meet there. Next Wednesday."

"All right. See you then."

"Linc?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry it'll take so long."

Lincoln glanced down at Kate, smiling. "I'm sure we'll find something to do until then." He replied.

------------------------------------------------------------------

"We're going to meet them at a place called Bolshoi Booze, next Wednesday." Lincoln explained, as they began the two hour drive back to the hotel.

"9 days?"

"Yeah."

"Hmm... what could we do for nine days?" Kate asked, a mischievious grin on her face.

"I'm sure we'll thing of something." Lincoln teased back. Kate laughed. A pleasant silence descended on them, not at all like the awkward quiet of the first day they'd been driving together. Now, they were enough at ease in each other's presence that it was okay to not talk constantly.

After nearly half an hour of this silence, Kate spoke. "We're not just messing around anymore, are we?"

Lincoln looked over at her. "No, we're not." He replied, quietly. "This feels... I don't know, I hate to say it feels right, because this whole situation is so messed up, but it does. It feels right."

Kate smiled. "It does feel right."

"I have to know, though, what about Adam?" Kate didn't immediately reply, but her smile slowly faded. "What happens when this is over?"

"I don't know." She answered honestly. "What do you want to happen?"

"I want to give us a chance. I'm not going to lie, I wouldn't be too devastated if you left him."

"There's so much that has to happen before this is all resolved, though." Kate pointed out. "I need to think about this."

"Okay. Just think about it." Lincoln encouraged.

"I will." She vowed.

"I think this could be something."

"Yeah, me too."

* * *

Alexander Mahone was reviewing the court transcript for Michael Scofield's trial when his cell phone rang. "Mahone." He answered, not permitting any of the exhaustion he'd accumulated in the past couple of days to enter his voice. 

"When you encountered Scofield, Burrows, and Sucre before the airplane fiasco, were they alone?" Bill Kim asked immediately, without preamble.

Alex frowned. "No, there was another man with him."

"Older?"

"Yes."

"Could you find it again?"

The agent straightened. "Of course. Why?"

"I need you to be there in nine days."

* * *

Please review! 


	16. Chapter 16

Disclaimer: I don't own Prison Break

* * *

One week. Seven days. One hundred and sixty-eight hours. Ten thousand and eighty minutes. Six hundred and four thousand, eight hundred seconds. Fernando Sucre would tell _anyone _who would listen that he had felt every single one of those seconds. Indeed, it had felt like a whole lot more. Between Bobby Rain being either at work or working on the chip, and Michael having no time to do anything but think about the plan and the future and send Dr. Tancredi affection-filled glances throughout the day, Sucre was pretty much left to himself.

Which, honestly, was just like being in prison, only with a refrigerator.

So, he'd spent the past week daydreaming about him, and Maricruz, and the life they would have together. Sucre felt so incredibly prepared to see her again that it was all he could do to stay in the apartment, and not go off to find her right then. He'd figured out what he was going to say first when he saw her again, come up with a lengthy list of baby names; hell, he'd even come up with several ideas for what he was going to do to Hector when he saw him again. And _that_ said something about how bored Sucre had been.

But fortunately for him, the week was up. Michael was in the other room with Rain, finalizing the details of there plan. Apparently, Bobby was going to meet them wherever it was that they were all meeting because Michael, Sucre, and Sara had to find Lincoln and the doctor again, and Bobby still needed a little more time. Sara was in the bathroom, drying her hair, which again, if only temporarily, left Sucre by himself.

This being alone stuff, he wasn't so good at it. Sucre could barely tolerate any time spent in the SHU back at Fox River, and this wasn't too far off. But they were leaving, soon. Michael would be coming out in just a moment with the plan, and then they would be off.

"Thank you, Bobby." Michael said, stepping out of the other man's office. Bobby followed. "I'll never forget this."

Bobby waved him off. "It's no sweat. It's just what these guys deserve. They have some nerve, breaking into my house, assaulting me. They're just lucky I didn't go to the police!"

"Yeah." Michael agreed, but Sucre thought he sounded doubtful. Regardless, Rain didn't pick up on this.

"So I'll seen you then." Rain said, pulling Michael into a hug.

"Yeah." The two broke apart, and Sara entered the room.

"Thank you. For everything." Sara said, also hugging the man.

"It was my pleasure."

Sucre stood up. "It was nice to meet you, bro."

"Yeah... you too." Rain shook his hand.

"See you in a couple days." Michael said, as they left the apartment. Sucre took a deep breath in relief as they walked away from the building and towards the parking garage in which their car was hidden. Michael turned to him. "You okay?"

"Yeah, Papi, I'm fine. I'm just glad to be moving again, s'all."

"Me too." Sara jumped in. "Staying in one place too long makes me anxious."

"Then I imagine you'll both be happy to know we're going to be moving fast from here out." Michael commented, pulling the car keys out of his pocket and unlocking the car.

"Where are we meeting Lincoln?" Sara asked, as they all got in.

Michael gave her a small smile. "Bolshoi Booze." He replied. In the front passenger seat, Sucre laughed.

"What's so funny?"

"Bolshoi Booze is in the middle of nowhere. It's this crappy little hut in the middle of the desert." Sucre explained. "You missed out on it the last time we were there, apparently."

Sara sent Michael a questioning look. "It's where we were headed after Gila." He explained. She nodded.

* * *

"Bill, it's me." Paul Kellerman spoke softly into his cell phone. He was lurking in the shadows just outside Rain's apartment building, and was watching Scofield, Sucre, and Tancredi walk away from him. _They're lucky I lost my gun in that damn dumpster, 'cause otherwise..._ Kellerman's train of thought derailed as Bill Kim answered. 

Kim exhaled, trying to imagine that all his frustration with the agent left with the carbon dioxide. It failed miserably. "Why are you calling me?" He asked sharply. "You failed. Your part in this is over."

"I have some information for you. Information that you need." Paul replied sincerely.

"You have nothing that I nor anyone else here needs."

"With all due respect, sir," Kellerman started, voice trembling ever so slightly. "You want to hear me out. You have nothing to lose by listening. When I'm done, you can pretend this call never happened if you want. But just listen for a moment. Sir."

Bill Kim sighed, immensely frustrated again. "What do you have for me?"

"I know where they're going and why." Paul began to explain, relief seeping unintentionally into his voice. "And you're not going to like it. Remember Frank Tancredi's tape?"

* * *

"So what's the reward?" Kate asked playfully, leaning over him. 

"What?" Lincoln stared at her, thoroughly confused.

"For you. You escaped from prison. There's gotta be a reward of some sort." She explained, smiling.

"Oh. Three hundred thousand, I think." Came the reply.

"Hmm... three hundred grand. That's a lot of money." Kate said. Lincoln shrugged. "Nah." She kissed him lightly on the lips. "Not worth it."

"What, I'm not, or it's not?"

"You're worth more than three hundred thousand." She clarified. Lincoln pulled her mouth back down to his, laughing. "I mean it. This week has been amazing."

Lincoln turned, so he was completely facing her. "It has been amazing." He agreed.

"Wanna know a secret?" Kate asked him, smiling secretively. Lincoln didn't reply, merely gently pushing her hair out of her face. She took that as a yes. "I'm leaving Adam." She said softly, as though somebody else might overhear.

"Really?" Lincoln asked, trying not to sound too surprised.

"Really."

"Why?"

"I feel differently about you than I do about him. With you, it's like... with you, I feel sunny."

"Sunny." He repeated, confused.

"Sunny."

"I don't know about 'sunny'," Lincoln started, "but I really care about you." She smiled in response, an expression that he returned.

"Did Michael say what his plan was? How long this was going to take?" Kate asked.

"No, no he didn't. Why?"

She shrugged. "I can't wait to get back to work, back to the hospital. I'm sure I missed a ton of surgeries. It'll be good to get back.

"Yeah."

Kate tilted her head slightly. "Is everything okay?" She asked, concerned. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but he'd sounded almost... well, almost sad.

"Do you have any tattoos?" Lincoln inquired suddenly, out of nowhere.

She gave him a strange look. "Excuse me?"

"Do you have any?"

"Um, no, but-"

"Have you ever gotten high?"

"No, but-"

"Have you ever committed a felony?"

"No, but-"

"Have you-"

"Lincoln!" Kate snapped, determined to get a word in edgewise. "What are you doing? Why are you asking me these things?" He held her gaze for a moment, before rolling over and standing up. He started to get dressed quickly. "Linc?"

Lincoln turned around to her. "Have you ever intentionally hurt someone you really care about?"

She sat up, eyes searched his for answers. What was he talking about? Why was he asking her these things? Kate still wasn't sure exactly what they were doing, where their relationship was going, but she knew that whatever it was, she had liked it so far. But Lincoln seemed to be almost deliberately trying to ruin it. That was strange because it contradicted everything he'd said just minutes before, about caring for her.

"Have you?" His voice broke into her thoughts like a rock through a window.

"Lincoln..." He seemed to take this as an answer, and continued putting his clothes on at lightspeed. Kate sat up.

"What are you doing?"

Lincoln stopped moving again, midway through buttoning his shirt. _Get it over with, quick. Like ripping off a band-aide, _he thought. "I don't think we should do this anymore. I think we should stop."

Kate's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"I mean..." Lincoln ran a hand over his head anxiously. "I mean we shouldn't do _this_." He gestured wildly, encompassing her, the bed, the room.

"_Why_?" Confusion was etched across her face.

Lincoln took a deep, steadying breath. "All those questions... and me... We should just stop!"

Hurt was beginning to replace Kate's confusion. "So you're seriously ending this because I don't have a tattoo, and I've never been high, or committed a damn felony?"

"No. I'm ending this because... God, I just... We can't do this anymore, damn it!" Lincoln stated, raising his voice now. He lingered where he was for a moment, before quickly crossing the room to the door, and stepped outside, slamming the door behind him.

Kate slumped against the head board, trying to figure out what exactly had just happened. The thing she understood the least was where this outburst had come from. One moment they'd been fine, the next he'd been yelling and their relationship had been over. Nothing had gone glaringly wrong, just all of a sudden, it was over. For all the talking and the sharing and the sex, Kate had nothing to show for it. He hadn't even been able to give her a half-decent reason for why this had ended. Maybe he'd just been toying with her the entire time. He was, after all, sentenced to death. And if Kate had been sentenced to die, she'd probably try to live life to the fullest with what she had left too. _Live for today, not tomorrow. Ha! What bull. _Maybe that was it. Maybe he was just using her. She realized that a few rogue tears were slowly traveling down her face, so she brushed them quickly away. He would, no doubt, be back at some point here, and it wouldn't do for Lincoln to see her crying over him. Kate crawled slowly to the edge of the bed, where her clothes laid on a heap on the floor.

It took longer than she'd anticipated for him to return, but that was okay with her. As far as she was concerned, if he dropped off the face of the earth right now, that would be just fine, as long as he left the car keys behind. Nearly an hour later, however, Lincoln returned and found her lounging on the other bed, leafing through a newspaper.

"Look, I-"

"Don't talk to me." Kate ordered sharply.

"I just-"

"Don't."

Lincoln stared at her for a moment, before going to the other bed. He found a Bible on the nightstand, and began to read it. After about five minutes, he looked over at her again. "We have to-"

"I said don't!"

"-start driving tomorrow, to get there in time. That's all." Lincoln finished firmly. He hated what had transpired in the past sixty minutes, but he also knew that it was absolutely necessary.

Both were silent after this, and tension filled the air, to the point that it was almost palpable. Neither spoke for the rest of the night, and in the morning only short, terse, strictly mandatory sentences were uttered by either. When they finally left the inn, the last week seemed nonexsistant. Forget the innumerable good times they'd shared; all that either of them could think about was the heartbreaking conflict the night before. For the first little bit, Kate was half-expecting for him to apologize at any moment. Indeed, she saw him looking at her more than once, as though he was about to, but evidently he changed his mind every time as he never said anything at all. And so they drove again... in silence.

* * *

Please review! 


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17!

Sorry this wasn't up sooner; I've been really busy lately. Just one or two more chapters left :)

Disclaimer: I don't own Prison Break.

The _italics _at the beginning signify a dream. Later, they represent T-Bag singing (just to keep it a little clearer as to who's talking).

* * *

_The hut looked exactly the same as it had for years. The only difference was in the bloodstain on the floor near the center of the room, the only evidence that any humans had been in the structure in quite some time. The midday sun still beat down upon it as it had for years, the layer of filth over everything inside was still as thick._

_A car was parked next to it now; another difference. The woman who owned the vehicle, along with the two men she was with, had just exited it. They stood now, blinking furiously in the harsh midday sunlight._

_"You should wait inside." Michael suggested, deftly pulling a pair of sunglasses out of his pocket and positioning them on his face._

_"What about you?" Sara inquired, hand hovering against her forehead, shielding her eyes somewhat from the torrent of light._

_"I'll be back." He promised, wrapping his arms around her and playing with the ends of her hair with one hand._

_"Nobody move!"_

_Michael looked up, over Sara's head, and saw Mahone, positioned on top of a small hill a few dozen yards away. A gun was in his hands, aimed at them._

_"I said nobody move!" The agent shouted again. Michael hadn't even been aware that he'd been moving, but now that Alexander Mahone had drawn attention to it, he realized that he was repositioning himself so that he was in front of Sara. Michael couldn't seem to make himself stop moving, even though his brain was screaming that this was suicide._

_A gun fired several bullets in quick succession. One of them hit him in the shoulder, but the bullet that affected him the most was the one that entered Sara's skull, causing her to collapse instantly. Michael caught her before she hit the ground, but her frozen, unfocused eyes indicated that she was already gone._

_"Here we are again." Mahone spoke, suddenly closer. Michael frowned. He knew the agent didn't have a Spanish accent, so why was he speaking with one? "Did you hear me? We're here."_

Michael's eyes flew open, and suddenly Mahone's face melted into Sucre's, and the hut transformed into the interior of the car. "What?" Michael asked, completely disoriented.

"I said we're here, Papi." Sucre answered. "You been sleeping again?"

Michael straightened, turning awkwardly in his seat. His heart rate slowed considerably when he saw Sara sitting in the back seat, staring at him. Michael looked at the car clock. 7:17 a.m.

"Where are we?"

"Bolshoi Booze." The Latin man replied, gesturing at the run-down building. Michael stared at it, goose bumps materializing on his skin.

"Michael? Is everything okay?" Sara asked, placing a tentative hand on his shoulder.

Michael placed his hand over hers. "Just a dream." He replied. "Drive back to the main road."

"What? Why?" Sucre demanded.

"I have a bad feeling." Michael replied, staring off at the horizon, in the direction from which they had come. "We're going to go wait for Lincoln and Dr. Curtis by the road. I want this over with as quickly as possible."

Sucre began drove away, Michael's heart beating a little quicker than usual. It was true; in mere hours, their lives would begin to get back to usual. When they met up with Rain in an Internet café about two hours from Bolshoi Booze, the message would go out to all the major news companies worldwide. Michael had the chip with them; all they had to do was get it to Rain, and he would do the rest. They'd decided that it would be better to divide the information they were going public with (the audio clips and the articles Rain had written), in case something happened to one party.

For a few moments, as they sped across the empty terrain, he lost himself in a daydream about what he would do, when this was all over. This-breaking out and then being on the run- had been his life for so long now. For months before committing the armed robbery, he had been possessed by the plan. He hadn't had anything besides it in so long. Minimum work, no social commitments, no charity work, no dates. Nothing but the plan.

But now, now he would need to find something else. Obviously, he would start to work again. Michael doubted that his old company would hire him again, not after he abused the blueprints of Fox River so. But surely someone could use him. He'd find somewhere, that he was certain of. Michael had certainly been told enough that his background and resume were outstanding. He'd find somewhere.

And then there was Sara. Michael looked back at her for a moment. She smiled reassuringly at him. What would happen there? Things had been interesting, for lack of a better word, since they met up at the bar over a week ago. Neither was denying their feelings for the other, but having a third person around was making things difficult. Sucre meant well, Michael knew that. Sucre was quite possibly Michael's best friend, after Lincoln. But in this situation, Sucre was the third wheel in every sense of the phrase. Things would be unpredictable when they got back to Chicago, when they weren't wanted anymore. All Michael knew was what he wanted to happen. He wanted to date her, properly, like he'd always wanted. And if she didn't get sick of him, Michael wanted to propose. He was already planning it, in the back of his mind. There was this restaurant in Chicago, ridiculously expensive and over-priced, but worth it for Sara. He'd take her there. After, they'd go for a walk along the lake, still in their formal clothes. And then, just before they decided to turn around and walk back to the car, he would get down on one knee, valiantly ignoring the damp sand beneath him, and pull out the ring he'd had specially designed for her, and-

A sharp bump in the road brought his attention back to the present. Michael realized that they were back where the road split, where the dirt path to Bolshoi Booze left the main, paved road. Michael had Sucre back up several yards, and park the car behind a row of bushes from which they could see the road but also positioned in such a way that cars speeding by wouldn't notice him.

They'd have children, of course. Michael and Sara. If she wanted them, of course. Their house would be big enough, he'd be sure of that. In fact, Michael would design it himself. A piece of scrap paper resting on the dashboard caught his eye. He reached into a cup holder and withdrew a small pencil. Michael snatched up the paper, grinning, and began to sketch out the layout of their dream house while they waited.

* * *

"So you won't mind me asking when you were going to tell me about the men at the gas station?" Kate asked accusingly. "You know, the two you _killed_?"

"What was I supposed to do? They were going after Michael, who, in case you've forgotten, I owe a hell of a lot!" Lincoln snapped back, his grip on the wheel tightening. He wished he'd told her about them before she'd heard it on a radio news report, but he couldn't bring himself to inform her when they were on good terms, and when they weren't, they barely spoke at all.

"I was all, 'Oh, Lincoln, I'm so glad you're not a killer'!" She responded, mocking her previous attitude. "You let me believe that you were innocent!"

"Yeah, well you cheated on your fiancé! What kind of person does _that_?" Lincoln challenged.

The two of them had been going back and forth like this for nearly an hour now, each insulting the other in any manner they could think of. Kate had started it, with a snide remark about his driving, and things had only escalated from there. Both of them were slightly red in the face now from the heat of the argument, and each determined to outwit the other.

"That doesn't even compare!" Kate insisted. "You committed a _felony_."

Lincoln was about to utter a brilliant comeback when he swerved the car suddenly, swearing. His sudden stunt driving was an attempt to avoid hitting the man who had stepped into the road, waving his arms.

The car finally screeched to a halt, inches from dramatically falling into a ditch. Kate and Lincoln opened their doors and climbed out to assess the damage.

"Remember what I said about your driving skills?" Kate asked darkly, as they examined the front. Lincoln didn't reply. "I'd just like to reassert that."

"Well, well, well! What are the odds of this?" A chillingly familiar voice said, causing the hairs on the back of Kate's neck to stand straight up. She stiffened, and looked around wildly for the source. Lincoln also straightened, stepping in front of Kate, effectively blocking her from view. "Finding a familiar face way out here in the middle of nowhere? Gotta be about the same as, oh, I don't know-"

"What the hell are you doing, T-Bag?" Lincoln interrupted in a growl, not at all in the mood to deal with the perverted criminal right then.

"Now, that's real funny, 'cause I was about to ask you the same thing." T-Bag replied lightly. Lincoln stared silently at him. "Me, I'm just your commonplace hitchhiker. Through a variety of generous drivers and my two good feet, I got to where you see me now. How you got here is clear as day; you obviously have a vehicle in your possession." Lincoln crossed his arms. Suddenly T-Bag titled his head. "What's that behind you there, Sink?"

"Leave her out of this, T-Bag." Lincoln ordered, using the soft, deadly tone he reserved for those who threatened the people he cared about. "Take a walk."

"I knew we'd lay eyes on each other again, Lovely." T-Bag remarked, stepping towards them, his tongue peeking out of his mouth slightly. Kate shifted so she was clearly visible, but didn't respond, merely sending the criminal a chilly glance.

"I said take a walk." Lincoln spoke again, muscles tensing.

"The only place I'm walkin' is into your car there."

"What?"

"I'm coming with you."

"You don't even know where we're going!"

"That may be true, but it doesn't matter to me where you are driving to. Wherever you're going, I'll be more than happy to accompany you."

"No."

T-Bag and Lincoln locked eyes in a silent battle of wills, leaving Kate to shift her weight anxiously in the uncanny quiet. Suddenly T-Bag grinned, an action that set her nerves on edge. "I came from that direction." He said, pointing in the direction they were heading. Both Kate and Lincoln noticed that he seemed to be on the verge of laughter. "And unfortunately for you, I know something you don't." T-Bag paused, waiting for one of them to ask. Neither rose to the bait. "Five miles that way is a small town. Nothing grand, just a population of about five thousand." He halted again, eyes gleaming. "But even a population of five thousand needs a police station."

"You can't exactly walk into a police department either." Lincoln pointed out sharply.

T-Bag laughed now. "You've got me there. Tell me, do you happen to have a, a road map in that car of yours?" Lincoln hesitated before nodding. "Then you may be aware of the fact that there is a rest station a little less than a mile from where we stand at this very second. What that map won't tell you is that it's a shabby little place. Can't have seen decent funding in quite some time, because some spiffy politicians at the capitol consider their money to be better spent on improved schools or something equally as... important. But let me tell you what it does have: pay phones."

"What's you point?" Lincoln snapped.

T-Bag chuckled. "Clearly Scofield got the all brains in your family." Lincoln's fists turned white from clenching them so hard, but he didn't comment. "All it takes is one call. One call." He lowered his voice, holding a lone finger up to emphasize the singularity of the call. "The dispatcher will later remark that the man had a Southern accent, definitely not from around these parts; no, clearly a traveler. Oh, sure, they'll think it's strange that with a reward so large, the caller wished to remain anonymous, but they'll get over that the instant they lay eyes on who is quite possibly the most wanted man in America." His eyes flickered over to the doctor. "And his… associate." Lincoln just stared at him. "So what's it gonna be?" T-Bag asked, his patience rapidly draining away.

Lincoln glanced at Kate, knowing what he had to do, but still reluctant to do it, even after all the insults they'd traded that afternoon. She refused to look at him, opting rather to stare off into the distance. "I'm sorry." Lincoln murmured. She dismissed his apology with an irritated sigh.

"I always knew you was a reasonable man, Burrows." T-Bag was saying. "I knew you'd see things from my-"

"Shut up." Lincoln snapped, yanking a car door open. T-Bag's expression was full of mock surprise and hurt, but he obliged. Lincoln got back into the driver's seat, and T-Bag quickly claimed the remaining front seat. Lincoln was about to object to this when Kate willingly climbed into the back.

"This feels just like a regular road trip." T-Bag remarked cheerfully, buckling his seat belt and resting his feet on the dashboard.

"Don't speak." Lincoln ordered in a tone that suggested he was dead serious. T-Bag stopped speaking, now dividing his attention between examining his fingernails, staring out at the countryside that was passing by, and sending Kate suggestive looks, which she attempted to ignore, trying desperately to pretend like nothing had ever happened.

* * *

Alexander Mahone was ashamed to say that the ringing of his cell phone jolted him out of his nap. As a federal agent, he was supposed to remain on edge at all times.

Even when he'd been sitting by himself in the same car, in the same spot, for almost eight hours.

Instead, however, he'd succumbed to his tiredness, the fatigue deep within him that never seemed to disappear entirely any more. It was just supposed to be for a few minutes, but when he looked at the clock in the car as he picked up his cell, he realized it had been almost two hours.

"Mahone." He did a brilliant job not permitting any lingering traces of sleep to enter his voice.

"I need an update, Alex."

Alex rubbed his eyes with his free hand. "Nothing to report. I've been here since eight this morning, and not so much as one vehicle has come by."

Bill Kim sighed. This wasn't the sort of news he had been hoping for. "All right. Keep me updated."

"Will do." The agent replied. _He woke me up just for this?_ Alex's boss hung up then. Alex glanced out the window, staring at the abandoned, run-down hut nearby. Maybe they weren't coming after all. "You sure this information was credible?"

"Quite sure." The other man insisted.

* * *

The car was no longer silent. Kate and Lincoln were bickering again, largely just restating their points from earlier. T-Bag was in the back, singing to himself; softly at first, but then louder. Lincoln was fairly certain now that T-Bag was inventing the lyrics as he went, considering they now seemed to be mostly a sort of commentary of their argument. Gradually, the noise rose and rose, until all three were shouting (and singing) at their maximum volumes. Kate had taken the wheel a few hours ago, and had driven ever since, reluctantly following Lincoln's instructions.

"Yeah, well don't forget about Adam!" Lincoln snapped, over T-Bag's boisterous musical talents. "Remember what you did to him?"

"_Addaaaammmm, oh hey, don't know you, but Adam, looks like you got screwed over…."_

"That sure carries a lot of weight coming from the murderer!"

"_Sinc's credibility's gone, 'cuz who trusts a killer_?" T-Bag howled, banging on a window for emphasis. He was just trying to annoy the two in the front now.

"You know damn well that I was defending Michael!"

"I can't believe this!" Kate yelled. "We were getting along perfectly fine! I thought I had found someone I could maybe be with-not just because there was no one else, but because I _wanted _to! And then you turn around and brush it away, like it was an emotional cobweb or something?"

"An emotional cobweb?" Lincoln repeated doubtfully, slightly startled by the abrupt change of subject from his criminal record to their relationship.

"_Just an emotional cobweb, an emotional cobweb, oh, just a cobweb…_." T-Bag's voice rose to an irritatingly high octave.

"Like it meant nothing!" She clarified sharply.

"It did mean something!"

"Then why the hell did you say all those things? Am I not good enough for you or something?"

T-Bag sang a string of high-pitched nonsense sounds (which Lincoln thought sounded like a dying cat). "I'm not having this conversation in front of _that_." He said. "We'll talk later."

"No, Lincoln, I want to talk _now_. Answer the damn question."

He exhaled sharply, in frustration, and stared out the window. "It wasn't that you weren't good enough, it was that you were too good. Not like _that_, just… you're a _doctor_. You're smart. You help people. You have a good life. And I don't have anything close to that."

They were both silent for a moment. Even T-Bag faltered, and stopped singing. He leaned forwards, resting his hands on their chairs. "Now, listen, I got a feeling there's something you two ain't sharin' with the class." T-Bag began. "Now, Lincoln, you understand, I gotta know if someone's messin' with the doctor there. After all, I wouldn't want anything to… happen to her." He tilted his head towards Kate, his tongue twisting eagerly. "I wouldn't want her to feel… unnecessarily threatened." T-Bag added, his mouth right next to her ear.

"Shut the hell up, T-Bag!" Lincoln shouted, twisting awkwardly and raising a fist menacingly. T-Bag held his hands up defensively, and moved back to slouch against the seat. A moment later, Lincoln said, "Turn here." Kate turned right onto a dirt road, trying to ignore the bumps.

"There's a car behind us." She announced, glancing back in the rearview mirror. Lincoln and T-Bag turned as one to look back.

"That there don't look too good." T-Bag proclaimed.

Lincoln turned back around. "It's Michael. Pull over."

Both cars stopped, kicking up some dust from the unpaved road. Michael quickly got out of his vehicle and walked towards the other one. Lincoln met him halfway. Michael wrapped his arms around his big brother, and Lincoln returned the gesture.

"In a few hours, this will all be fixed." The younger man said quietly, as if he could barely believe it. Lincoln just nodded; he couldn't seem to be able to bring himself to speak then. He was just happy to see his brother –alive- again. After a few manly back slaps, they broke apart. Lincoln and Sucre shook hands quickly, and Lincoln nodded to the doctor.

T-Bag had hung back by the car, and Kate had stood uncomfortably halfway between him and the others, knowing that she didn't belong with them, but not wanting to linger too close to her almost-rapist. Michael eventually saw her, and tilted his head, indicating that she should join them for a moment. She obliged, crossing her arms and blinking furiously to spare her eyes the glare of the setting sun.

"By this time tomorrow, you'll be home." Michael promised her. She just stared doubtfully at him. "We're taking information to a friend three hours from here. He'll leak it to the media, and then we'll take you home."

"I can find my own way." Kate said.

Michael nodded. "But it's better if you stay with us until after the news breaks."

"If you let me go now, I swear, I won't tell anyone anything, I'll-"

"You just need to stay a little longer. No one at the local sheriff's is going to believe you. They'll chuck the book at you now. It'll be a whole new ball game tomorrow morning. Just wait until then." Kate glared for a moment, before finally conceding. "Good. Now, this is where we're going…." Michael pointed a spot on a map out to Lincoln.

"What's there?"

"An Internet café from which we can spread the tape." Lincoln nodded. "Neither car seats six, so with T-Bag, we'll have to take two."

Michael and Lincoln strode away from everybody else, finalizing the plan. They returned minutes later, divided up (T-Bag, Lincoln, and Sucre in one car, Sara, Michael, and Kate in the other), and drove away.

* * *

He didn't see a vehicle. He didn't see any people. The only thing he saw was a cloud of dust. It was however the first movement he'd seen all day, by anything, living or not, and it struck him as highly suspicious. He watched for a few moments, to ensure that his eyes weren't playing tricks on him, before shifting the car into drive and picking up his cell phone to alert Kim of this development.

Maybe he was seeing things. Maybe he was dreaming. Maybe he was overreacting, because of the long day. But regardless, in case this was something, Mahone wasn't about to pass this up.

* * *

Please review! 


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18!

Disclaimer: I don't own Prison Break

Only one more chapter after this one :)

* * *

"We're clear on what's going to happen?" Lincoln asked Sucre, who was next to him.

The Puerto Rican nodded. "Chips and soda."

"Good. It will come down to minutes." Lincoln turned towards Sucre, who was driving. "You don't have a problem with this, right?"

"He is just a dangerous person to piss off, is all." He replied after a brief hesitation.

Lincoln continued to watch him for a moment, before turning back to the battered map in his hands. "It should be just a few miles up ahead." He commented, refolding it.

Sucre turned off the highway and headed towards the gas station. Their car was low on fuel, and Lincoln imagined that Michael's car was also. Plus, they were hungry, thirsty, and long overdue to stretch their legs. Lincoln breathed a quiet sigh of relief as Michael followed their car off the highway.

Lincoln pulled up on the other side of Michael. Everybody got out of the cars upon arrival at the small station. The brothers went about refilling the cars' tanks, while everybody else went off in search of a bathroom. On her way back to the car, Kate spied a pay phone. She slowed, staring at the device. The events of the past two weeks replayed themselves in her mind, forcing her to experience them anew, to relive the agony. Her vision blurred, and Kate felt hot droplets running down her face. In the past fourteen days, she'd been kidnapped-by escaped criminals and a murderer no less, held at gunpoint, nearly raped, been on the wrong end of a police chase, cheated on Adam, and been dumped by someone from the weirdest relationship she'd ever been in, but someone that she'd come to care about all the same. Suddenly, this was all too much. She couldn't keep doing this. Not alone. She was friendless amongst them, with no hope for a reprieve. _Too much. _Michael said it would be over tonight, but what if he was wrong? _Too much._

"You coming?" Sara's relatively kind voice jarred her out of her thoughts.

"Yeah." Kate brushed away the tears.

"You know…" Sara hesitated, uncertain. "They're not bad people. Most of them."

"I know." Kate pushed her hair out of her face. "I'm just, uh, going to… tie my shoe." She kneeled down, adjusting the shoelace on her left shoe. "You can go ahead, if you want."

"All right." Kate watched Sara walk back to where Michael stood.

Kate stood swiftly the instant the other doctor rounded the corner of the building, and pulled some change out of her pocket. She dashed towards the pay phone and inserted the coins into it, lifting the receiver to her face. Kate dialed, and slumped against the wall, eyes closed, as the line began to ring.

"Hello?" He sounded exhausted, as though he hadn't slept in… well, two weeks.

"Adam." Now that she heard his voice, she could only whisper his name. The tears came back again, but Kate tried to prevent herself from completely losing control.

"Kate?" A wild hope was evident in Adam's voice now.

"Yeah, it's me." Kate sniffled.

"Kate! What happened? Where are you? Are you okay? You know what, just hang on, let me let the police know it's you-"

"No!" She exclaimed. "I mean… I just want to talk. For a moment."

"Uh… okay, I guess." Adam sighed. "Where are you?"

Kate glanced around. "I, um, I'm not sure." She answered truthfully.

"Best guess?"

"How's Mom?" Kate changed the subject forcibly.

"She's hangin' in there." He sounded frustrated.

"Does she know I'm… not there?"

"I told her you're visiting some friends in L.A. But I think she knows I'm lying."

"She always could see through your stories." Kate remarked, smiling through her tears.

"Yeah. Look… we're _engaged_. That means you can tell me stuff. It means you should tell me stuff."

"What do you want me to tell you?"

"Well, for starters, why you left without telling anyone."

"You're mad about this?" She asked, cringing.

"Not mad, exactly, just very worried. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"You don't sound fine. What's wrong?" He asked. She knew he had a concerned expression on his face, and knew that if she was with him, he would be holding her, protecting her, just like when T-Bag….

Wait. That was Lincoln, not Adam. Bad, bad, bad!

"Everything." Kate whispered. And with that, she lost it completely.

* * *

"Hey! T-Bag!" Sucre caught up with the con, who was wandering away from the cars. The other man turned, one eyebrow raised. "They want you to buy some soda."

"Do I look like their slave?" T-Bag retorted. "No."

Sucre came to stand next to him. "Look, I don't ask no questions. You shouldn't neither. Just buy the damn soda." He handed T-Bag some money.

T-Bag pocketed the money. "The Fish wants pop, he get it himself."

"Look, now, I wasn't gonna say anything, but they're talking about getting rid of you." Sucre said, lowering his voice. T-Bag just stared at him, like this was nothing new. "By making waves, you're just making it easier for them."

T-Bag held his gaze for a moment more, before storming off and into the gas station.

"Hey! Get chips too!" Sucre called after him, before hurrying back to the vehicles.

* * *

It had taken a few minutes, but Adam had calmed Kate back down to a more rational state of mind. She'd sobbed hysterically into the phone, he'd whispered soothing nonsense, and now Kate was considerably more reasonable. "So when are you coming back?" He asked her.

"I don't know. Soon, hopefully."

"How soon?"

"Hey." Another voice on Kate's end said.

She twisted wildly, startled. Lincoln was there, just feet away. Kate placed a hand over the receiver. "What?" She inquired, snappily.

"We're going." He replied.

"Just let me say good-bye."

"_Now_." Lincoln emphasized.

"Adam?"

"Yeah?"

"I have to go."

"Who was that?"

"No one. Just someone waiting for the phone." It troubled her how easily she'd lied to her fiancé just then.

He gave an agitated sigh, but accepted this. "If you say so."

"I do. I really have to go."

"Okay. I'll see you soon?"

"I hope so."

"I love you."

"Me too."

"Wait, Kate?"

"Hmm?"

Adam hesitated. "Could you say it?"

"Say what?"

"Tell me that you love me?"

"Adam, I really have-"

"Please? Just say it?"

Kate swallowed. "I love you, Adam."

"I know. I just wanted to hear you say it."

"I have to go now."

"Okay."

"Bye then."

"Good bye." Adam said, as she hung the receiver up. She slumped against the wall, eyes shut.

"Did you tell him what we're doing?" Lincoln asked sharply, causing her to jump slightly; she hadn't realized that he had lingered after giving her the warning. She gave him a confused look. "With the tape?"

Kate shook her head. "No."

"Where we are?"

"No."

"Who you're with?" She just shook her head, too tired now to respond again with words. It seemed almost like he was trying to pick a fight, but she didn't have the energy for it anymore. Everything that had happened, coupled with the sheer enormity and extreme peril of what they were trying to do exhausted her. Just thinking about it all made her want to collapse, right here, and never move again.

"C'mon." Lincoln said gruffly, leading the way back to the car.

"Is that T-Bag in there?" Kate asked as they passed the mini-mart by the pumps.

"Yep." Lincoln replied.

"Why…?"

"Just hurry. We're leaving our friendly neighborhood sex offender here, as long as he doesn't find out we tried to pull the wool over his eyes before it's too late." They approached the cars as quickly as they could without drawing attention. When Lincoln and Kate rejoined the rest of the group, they divided up again and got into the vehicles and drove away.

* * *

"Think you got enough there?" The cashier was a teenage boy, his hair long and his attitude bad. He was referring to the bag of chips and lone two-liter bottle of soda.

"Yup. That's it." T-Bag replied, scratching his back, discreetly searching for security cameras. He saw none.

"Four twenty eight." The cashier stated, drumming his fingers on the counter impatiently.

T-Bag pulled out the five Sucre had given him from Michael. He grinned, and slapped it down onto the counter. "You know, I used to have long hair like yours." T-Bag commented, examining the clerk. He looked up at the customer, seeming a little disturbed.

"That's just peachy." The cashier replied, counting out T-Bag's change.

"You know what, you can just keep the change… Matt." T-Bag said, spying the teen's nametag.

"I guess I can home, my day's complete now." The cashier replied sarcastically, dropping the seventy-eight cents back into the register.

"When I was your age…." He started, before stopping, recalling some of the stunts he'd pulled when he was Matt's age and deciding that most of them probably were unsuitable even for the teenager to hear. T-Bag grinned once more, and headed out the door.

In the parking lot, however, he froze. It was empty. "Damn you, Scofield!" T-Bag bellowed into the night.

Furious didn't even begin to describe how he felt then, having been betrayed _again_. When he was able to think relatively clearly, T-Bag recalled a pay phone on the side of the building. As he trotted over to it, he thought back to his vow earlier to the older brother, of an anonymous call to the police.

He picked up the receiver, and reached into his pocket to withdraw a quarter. T-Bag's good hand froze, however, as he realized that he had no coins of any type. He swore again. _If only I'd took the damn change!_ T-Bag thought, enraged. He ran back to the station, and yanked the door open. The teen stared up at him in surprise.

"I need to borrow your phone." T-Bag panted, steadying himself on a rack of newspapers.

"Phones are for employees only. Sorry." He seemed anything but sympathetic.

T-Bag shook his head. "You don't understand. This is an emergency like no other."

"What the hell do you need a phone for, hobo?" The cashier snapped.

T-Bag managed to avoid retorting that. "I don't suppose that someone so lost to society has heard of the Fox River Eight."

"Contrary to popular belief, I can read." The clerk said, pointing at a poster on the wall promoting the search for the escapees. T-Bag was suddenly glad he'd put a hat on before coming in.

"Well, then you can appreciate how significant it is that three of them were outside this gas station just now." T-Bag said, leaning on his elbows on the counter. Matt's eyes grew a bit wider, in an uncharacteristic display of surprise.

* * *

"Mahone."

"Agent Mahone, this is Deputy Sharon Lain, of-"

"What do you need, Deputy?"

"We received a call moments ago from a gas station cashier, claming that he saw three of the Fox River Eight outside his station five minutes ago. We contacted the FBI, and they connected us to you."

"What's the address?" Mahone slowed, and wrote down the letters and numbers.

"Sir, you have to understand, this is extremely… well, extreme. This sort of thing _never _happens here, and quite frankly, none of us are sure how to handle it. Should we sent cars over there?"

"No!" Mahone didn't mean to sound so sharp. "I'll call when I get there, and then I'll need backup. In the meantime, get your squads ready. These men are extremely dangerous, and your officers would be putting themselves at unnecessary risk until I am there."

"Yes, sir."

"Contact me if there is a problem."

"Sir?"

"What?"

"We already sent two cars over…." Mentally, Alex swore. This would be decided by mere minutes.

* * *

"I really have to get going." T-Bag said. "I have a previous engagement to return to."

The cashier shrugged. "Sure thing. Scram. I'll just tell the police that you deliberately disobeyed their direct order to stay here. Which," He spoke from experience now. "Is a crime, in case you didn't know."

"I got things to do, people to see." T-Bag snapped. "Tell the cops you saw 'em." He moved to the door, but then stopped, sighing in frustration. A car had pulled into the lot, its headlights signifying its arrival. T-Bag moved deeper into an aisle, blocking himself from immediate view. The door opened, and a man in a black suit with sunglasses-even though it was dark outside-entered. As he removed the glasses, revealing himself to be Alexander Mahone, T-Bag felt a great sinking sensation in his gut. His plan for revenge had backfired in the worse possible manner.

"You the man who saw the three?" Alex asked, not seeing T-Bag yet.

The cashier shook his head. "The hooded marvel in row three did." He replied, pointing.

Alex turned, and upon seeing T-Bag, eased his gun smoothly out of its holster. "We just keep running into each other, T-Bag." He remarked, walking slowly towards the aisle.

T-Bag threw his hood off, snarling. "That's sweet of you, but I'm afraid we're going to have to put an end to this unseemly relationship."

"Oh?" Mahone challenged.

"Uh huh." T-Bag replied, pushing over a display stand and sprinting forwards, not to Mahone, but to the cashier. Mahone fired several bullets, but none of them met their mark. Matt shouted as T-Bag wrapped on arm around against his neck and pushed him forwards with the other.

"What the hell are you doing, man?" The teen asked, voice cracking slightly.

"Now, now, it would be a shame if this innocent young punk somehow found himself in the middle of all this." T-Bag remarked, grinning eerily. He had protection now. He had a hostage, or a human shield, depending on how the situation played out.

Mahone stared at him, trying to guess his motive. "You can't win, T-Bag." He said finally. "Even with the boy, the police will be here soon, and then they'll outnumber you, and you _will _be brought in. There's no point in putting us all through this."

"The point isn't to get out of this." T-Bag corrected, running a hand through the teen's lengthy dark hair.

"Then what is the point?"

"The point is to…" T-Bag trailed off as several police cars filled the lot, and officers piled out. The doors burst open, admitting cop after cop after cop, all of them training their weapons on him. T-Bag's grin grew. "The point was to hold out for a few minutes. Just long enough."

"How is this better, T-Bag?" Mahone snapped, sweat collecting on his face.

"See, the cops won't kill me." T-Bag replied, almost happily. "They have to play by the rules. You, on the other hand… well, you just like to make your own rules, don't you?" When there were several officers between him and Mahone, T-Bag released Matt, who leaned against a wall as though it was all that held him up. They cuffed T-Bag, and led him out to a squad car, one of them shouting off his rights over the noise of the sirens. Minutes later, Mahone departed also, speeding off into the night in the direction Lincoln, Michael, Sara, Sucre, and Kate had gone just half an hour before.

"You okay kid?" An officer finally asked Matt, almost half an hour later. "Kid?" The cashier snapped out of a reverie. "You okay?"

"Yeah… yeah, I'm fine."

"You look familiar." The cop squinted, as though it might help him remember.

"I don't think so." Matt had the sense to refute this. The cop undoubtedly recognized him from some exploit he'd been caught in the middle of, and it wouldn't help his situation to remind the officer of it.

"Hmm." The officer snapped his notebook shut. "Are you okay? Do you want to come back to the station?"

"No." He outright refused. Matt spent enough time there these days without going voluntarily.

"The owner said he'd be here in as quick as he could, so you can go." The officer added. "We'll come by for your statement in about a day, and you'll probably be called on to testify."

"Fine." The officer glanced at him, not convinced, but not about to force the matter.

"You know what? I think I'll get a haircut." Matt added randomly, still deep in thought about T-Bag.

* * *

They were only about half an hour away, now, and Michael could practically taste the alleviation of this crisis. He looked over at Sara. She returned his smile anxiously. She was nervous, he realized. Nervous about what? About how this was going to go down? About what would happen next? _I guess after everything that's happened to her, she's entitled to some nerves now,_ Michael reasoned.

He looked back to where Kate sat in the back, biting her thumbnail absentmindedly. Michael couldn't determine if he thought she looked nervous, or just indifferent. He still hated that they had taken her along. She wasn't involved in this in any way. At least, not until he made her a part of it. Michael was sorry about everything that had happened to her because of him and his brother, but he didn't think he could ever find a way to make her believe that. After all, how often does the captive ever sympathize with the captors?

Michael brought his eyes back to the road, eyes automatically scanning the short distance the headlights illuminated in the now-complete darkness. The last thing they needed now was an accident. Almost fifteen minutes ago now, Lincoln had pulled up next to Michael and said that he thought there was somebody following them. So they'd increased their speed, disregarding the speed limit, and praying that they encountered no ignorant, righteous police officers.

"Sara?"

"What, Michael?" She replied, shifting her gaze from the darkness outside to his shadow-drenched face.

"No matter what happens… I love you. I want you to know that."

"I know. I love you too." Sara answered, tired, but still meaning it. She personally couldn't wait to crawl into a real, clean bed again to get some real sleep.

In the back seat, Kate pretended that she couldn't hear them. Of course, in reality, she could, and their conversation only made her think of the one she'd had with Adam not that long ago. _"I just wanted to hear you say it,"_ he'd said. Almost as though he'd suspected that maybe something about her wasn't right. As though he'd thought maybe he was losing her.

Which wasn't as ridiculous as perhaps Adam believed it to be.

Sure, she'd spent over a week sleeping with another man (another man that she happened to have come to care about in that time), but it didn't mean that she didn't still care for Adam. It didn't mean that she was planning on leaving him (although she caught herself wondering more than once what she would do without him). It didn't necessarily mean anything.

The idea shouldn't have been enough to bring tears to her eyes, but it was. Adam wasn't losing her. If anything, she was already lost to him. He'd never had her the way he thought he had. She didn't love him. She never would, and Kate knew that. But he was safe. So safe. And he loved her. And maybe that was enough.

Kate gradually became aware that there were sirens in the distance. Both Michael and Sara fell silent as they heard them too. They were still a ways away, but getting closer with every second. Michael gritted his teeth, but continued to drive. They had no alternative.

And then suddenly, out of nowhere, something collided into the side of Michael's vehicle. As the driver, Michael never even saw the other car coming. It slammed into them, sending them spinning off the road and into the overgrown grass next to it. The other car faired only slightly better, managing to come to a halt on the shoulder. Behind them, Lincoln slammed on the breaks violently to avoid hitting them also. He and Sucre sprang out of their car and sprinted to the one Michael had been driving. Michael, Sara, and Kate were all already out of the now-smoking vehicle, apparently unhurt.

"What the hell happened?" Lincoln asked, taking in the wreckage.

"I-"

"You know, Michael, if you really didn't want to be found, you should have turned your cell phone off." The five turned their heads first one way, then the other, eyes fervently searching blindly in the dark for the source of the voice. "We can't track it then."

"Lance." Sara breathed, ignoring the fear welling up in her chest. "I mean, Kellerman."

Michael stepped protectively in front of her, which was slightly pointless because they didn't know where the agent was.

"On the other hand, Burrows, I'm surprised that you didn't think of it. Surely LJ told you about his experiences with the Secret Service?"

"By the trees." Sucre muttered as quietly as he could. Everyone turned away from the road, towards a small cluster of trees where the glint of something-a watch, perhaps- betrayed the presence of a human.

"Kellerman-" Michael was cut off by the sudden deafening volume of police sirens. A patrol car raced past the scene. Several dozen yards later, it screeched to a stop, performed a hazardous U-turn and came back.

"What happened here?" A police officer called through his open window as he approached them.

Kellerman produced an agitated sound. "Agent Paul Kellerman, US Secret Service. I have apprehended a member of the Fox River 8. I have it under control."

"What member?"

Kellerman's eyes gleamed. "Actually, it's not even one of the 8. Just Sara Tancredi."

"Need some help?"

"Nope. I've got it." Kellerman paused. "Actually, some of the others went past here, going north on this road."

"Really?"

"Mmm Hmm. I understand you probably have things to do. Monitor traffic, paperwork back at the office, that sort of thing."

"Oh, no sir, we'll be right on it." The officer promised, before gunning away into the night. At precisely that moment, the five people Kellerman was looking to apprehend scattered

It was like the ultimate game of hide and seek. They didn't have time to get into the car, so they hid. Sucre hid among the wrecked cars. Sara settled in a ditch under some leaves. Lincoln crawled to a patch of exceptionally tall, thick brush. Michael moved behind a tree, and checked his watch; they didn't have time for this! Kate sought refuge behind a large boulder, knees tucked up to her chest. It was a game of life and death, and Kellerman was the seeker.

"You think this helps?" Kellerman asked rhetorically, a soft click indicating that his gun was ready. He removed the silencer from the weapon, wanting every gunshot to be painfully audible. "You think you can hide long enough?"

No one else spoke, knowing that doing so would be suicide. They didn't move, they barely breathed, not wanting to give any hints.

The only sound now was Kellerman. He said something that sounded dangerously like "Aha!" And then some foliage rustled. Someone drew shaky breaths. "We haven't met before." Kellerman remarked. He got no response, which no doubt irritated him. Lincoln had a bad feeling about this. "Tell me your name!" Kellerman dug the tip of his gun into her back.

"Kate." She whispered, tears threatening to fall.

"Kate!" Kellerman called, wanting everyone to hear. "You're not one of the Fox River 8, are you?" He paused. "No. You seem like a good person, Kate. A good person who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. To help make this go away, I need you to ask them to come out." Kellerman stopped again, waiting. After a brief hesitation, Kate replied that she would not do that. "See, that's bad. That sort of attitude will get you thirty years for helping convicted felons." He raised his voice now. "There's a lot of ways to cause pain with bullets, a lot of ways to make death come slowly. Just remember: she's not supposed to be involved. She is being punished for _your_ decisions."

_He won't pull the trigger. He won't do it._

He did. The sound of the gunshot overwhelmed the area for a second, and rang in Lincoln's ears for a few more due to the close proximity. Kate screamed, the long, agonized scream of a person in immense pain, eventually breaking off into sobs. Kellerman allowed her to do so for several moments before speaking again. "If you don't all come forward, that was only the beginning." He promised.

Neither Michael, Sara, Lincoln, nor Sucre responded, not wanting to give away their positions. It was a selfish decision, but the logical one. They needed to stay alive, and they wouldn't if they did as he said.

"No?" Kellerman gave them one final chance, before tucking his gun into his belt and personally inflicting pain with his own hands. Kate cried out numerous times, but Kellerman didn't stop as no one came forward. "Still no? You must not care very much about your hostage, then."

Deep in the grass, Lincoln clenched his fists, trying to maintain his resolve. Giving themselves up wouldn't help anything. He knew that. All they could do was wait for an opportunity…

Another gunshot, another shriek of pain. Lincoln couldn't take it anymore. His internal battle between risking capture and sparing Kate over, he stood. Kellerman's torso twisted toward Lincoln.

"Lincoln. I didn't think you'd be the first one to crack." Kellerman said, knocking Kate to the ground, where she lay, unconscious.

Lincoln was about to reply when people shouted and there was the sound of a struggle of some sort. He scuttled to where Kellerman had been, and found Michael and Sucre trying to wrestle the agent to the ground. Lincoln's gaze miraculously found Kellerman's gun. He stooped over and picked the weapon up.

Lincoln was about to do it again. He was going to kill another man. But Kellerman wasn't innocent, like the ones in the gas station before. Kellerman was a threat. More than that, however, Kellerman had hurt people Lincoln cared about. Veronica, Michael, LJ, Sara, Kate.

He barely hesitated before pulling the trigger.

* * *

When the blackness lifted and Kate came to, there was a flurry of activity all around her. She tried to sit up, but her head spun dangerously. Kate shut her eyes and started to slip away from consciousness again when she realized someone was calling her name. She tried to reply, but the only sound Kate could muster was a soft moan. Strong hands gripped her shoulders and lowered her back down to the ground.

A face loomed over her head, a familiar face. She should recognize the person, she knew that. But between her swimming vision and general disorientation, Kate couldn't match the face to a name. She shut her eyes again against the light that shone over her, illuminating her and the man over her.

"Kate? Can you hear me? Look at me." The voice that had called her name ordered. Kate opened her eyes halfway, making the connection that the voice belonged to the face. She moaned again. "I'm so sorry." His voice was low, rough with emotion. He knew enough not to lift her, but man dropped his face, allowing it to rest softly on hers. He rubbed her arm softly, no doubt trying to comfort her.

"Lincoln." Another voice and face appeared in her line of sight. Lincoln. That was it. That was his name.

Lincoln sat upright, as though burned. "What?"

"I need to examine her."

"What?"

"I need to look at her, see what's up." The woman replied evenly.

"Oh… yeah, okay. Okay." Lincoln disappeared, leaving her alone with the woman. Sara.

"What hurts, Kate?" Sara asked her, shining a light in her eyes.

Kate flinched. "Everything."

"What hurts the most?"

"Uh… my, uh, my stomach, chest. Leg. Back. Everything."

"Okay." Sara said. "Stay with me, Kate." Kate tried to nod, but it made her head spin again so she stopped. Sara lifted her shirt slightly, revealing bruises that had already begun to form on her ribs. She pressed slightly along Kate's abdomen. At one of these prods, Kate cried out from the pain it caused. Sara noted this, and proceeded on with the rest of her examination before standing and joining the rest of the group.

"She needs immediate medical attention." Sara stated, jamming her hands into her pockets.

"Can you do anything?" Michael asked.

Sara shook her head. "No. Not here. Not enough."

"We have to take her with us. We can't just leave her here!" Lincoln argued.

Sara turned to him. "She was shot _three_ times. She has broken ribs. She is bleeding internally. If she doesn't get to a hospital soon, she _will_ die."

"Will she be okay in the hospital? She'll get better, right?" Sucre asked.

Sara shrugged. "Maybe. She's gone through a lot. She'll have the best chance to fight in the hospital. Out here… she doesn't stand a chance."

"We can't go to a hospital." Michael pointed out. "Is there any way she can walk?"

"Not far, if at all." She replied. Lincoln had leaned against a tree.

"She needs a hospital." Michael repeated. Sara nodded. "All right then. We'll take her to the next one we encounter, and then continue on to Rain." When this met no disapproval, Michael continued. "I'll go explain, then."

"No."

"What?" Michael turned to his brother.

"I'll tell her." Lincoln volunteered, straightening. Michael nodded, and Lincoln strode back over to where Kate lay bleeding.

"Kate? Can you hear me?" Lincoln asked.

"Yeah…"

"I'm picking you up now." Lincoln carefully slid a hand behind her knees and under her back, and lifted her.

"Where are we going?" She asked, sounding sleepy.

"The car. We're going to get help for you."

"A hospital?"

"A hospital. With doctors and everything."

"That's good." A pause. "What do I tell them?"

"What?"

"They'll want to know what happened."

"Oh. Uh, just tell them the truth. About how we kidnapped you, and all." Lincoln replied, carefully laying her on the back seat of his car.

"Lincoln?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm cold." Lincoln glanced down at her. He searched for something to cover her with, but could only find his old shirt, that she'd worn after T-Bag had attempted to rape her. Lincoln lifted this and spread it over her torso.

"That's all I can do right now." He said.

"Thank you." Kate replied obediently.

"No problem." Lincoln got into the driver's seat. Sucre climbed into the front also, and Michael and Sara took Kellerman's car. They drove away, knowing it would probably be only minutes before the police found the wreckage.

In the other car, Michael looked at the clock. The plan was falling apart, again. What was that saying again? Something about the best laid plans of mice and men… Michael's plans certainly had run amuck for the past little bit. They were supposed to meet Rain in less than an hour, but with the added pit stop at the hospital, it was going to be close. And if they couldn't get to Rain then, they would probably be found. The police and the feds were too close for failure now.

It would come down to minutes.

* * *

Please review! 


	19. Chapter 19

So this is the final chapter of this story. It turned out a bit longer than I intended, and went in a few directions that I hadn't foreseen, but overall, I am very happy with it. It's the first major writing project I've ever seen all the way through. I'd like to thank all the people who read this, and extend a huge thank-you to everybody who reviewed.

The first scene of this chapter takes place just after the previous one. The bold/italics represents a newspaper article in the future. After that, I know its probably a little fluffy, but I felt after all they went through, they deserved it. Enjoy!

Please review!

* * *

The darkness was complete now. The city appeared deserted, at least where they were. Michael, Lincoln, Sucre, and Sara had pulled up a block away from the Internet café. "Everyone ready?" Michael asked, glancing at each of them in turn. No one replied negatively, so they got out of the car for the last time. The four crept down the street, eventually reaching the place.

Rain was already there, at a computer. The four entered, heads ducked (oddly enough, there were a few other people there at that time of night) and made their way to his computer. Sirens rang in the distance.

"Here." Michael withdrew the computer chip and handed it to his former roommate. Rain inserted the chip into the computer, pressed a few buttons, and leaned back grinning, hands laced behind his head.

"We're good." He announced.

Michael smiled. He kissed Sara passionately in celebration. "I'm glad you're here with me." He said. Michael's head was spinning slightly from the sudden joy of this being -finally- over. Sucre and Michael hugged quickly. Michael turned to Lincoln to comment on the fact that they were in the clear now, but Lincoln was staring out the window, a blank expression on his face.

"Hey... aren't you that man?" A young man was saying, peering out from around the side of his computer. "That one what broke out of prison?"

Michael turned to him, still grinning. "Yeah. I am."

**Update on the Fox River Eight**

_Two and a half years ago today, a moderate-sized, previously unknown town near Albuquerque, New Mexico, became famous. Two and a half years ago today, Lincoln Burrows and his brother, Michael Scofield were arrested near an Internet café there. If it was possible, their recapture was overshadowed by the exposure of a massive government conspiracy. Mere minutes before their arrest, major news broadcasting organizations worldwide broke the story of the conspiracy. Sources later conflicted over just who delivered the incriminating evidence to the media. In the ensuing weeks, amidst numerous federal investigations and emergency elections to replace the droves of resigning politicians, it became common-knowledge that the conspiracy, known as the Company, framed the infamous Burrows. Scofield also admitted to committing an armed robbery deliberately to be imprisoned with his convicted brother, but only to break them out of Fox River State Penitentiary. The brothers were eventually tried for their breakout and various other crimes._

_Now three-months removed from a type-A prison, Scofield and Burrows are back in society, and are generally considered by Americans to be heroes, rather than menaces. Scofield appeared at the grand opening of a Chicago children's hospital, and Burrows threw the ceremonial first pitch at a White Sox post-season game in October. Both brothers have appeared on everything from radio talk shows to late-night television. Scofield is currently working on a book about their experiences, due out next Christmas, and Liam Boothe, the star of recent blockbuster hit "Behind the Wall", is set to play Burrows in a made-for-TV movie. Indeed, their previous crimes lie almost forgotten nowadays._

_Almost forgotten._

_The families of Ernie Mitus and Jim Holladay, two gas station employees from New Mexico, Ms. Stanton, a Kansas woman, and Owen Kravecki, a Chicago native, all victims of the brothers' misdeeds will never forget. Despite being cleared of charges, the brothers are suspected to have killed them, because they got in the way of the brothers. And then there is the mystery that surrounds Katelyn Curtis (29). Curtis was missing for over two weeks before stumbling into a nearby hospital with serious injuries, including gunshot wounds, the same night the brothers were arrested. Curtis suffers from severe Post-Traumatic Stress Syndrome, which greatly limits her recollection of the events of the two weeks she was MIA, but police reports at the time indicated she was believed to be with the escapees. "I don't remember" was her catch phrase upon her return, regardless of the question. She was quite adamant that she remembered none of what had happened._

_To be perfectly honest, if you or I, or any person who had not recently proved that half the people in Washington DC were corrupt had done all the stuff they'd done, we would spend the rest of our life in jail. Scofield and his brother got off with a mere eighteen months. Granted, Burrows in particular served undue time before breaking out, but the courts were ridiculously lenient. How is it fair that the two of them, with a combined four deaths and thousands of dollars in damages, received a year and a half?_

_It's not. But that's democracy for you._

_Fernando Sucre, another member of the infamous Fox River Eight, received a similar punishment. For his involvement in all this, Sucre got two years. His time will be up in March. Theodore Bagwell, having nothing to do with the exposure of the Company, returned to Fox River State Penitentiary to finish the rest of his life sentence. Benjamin Franklin turned himself in after the brothers and Sucre were captured, and is finishing off his two-year sentence as well._

Kate crumpled the front page of the newspaper into a ball and threw it into the conveniently placed garbage can. She massaged her forehead with one hand, thinking _will it never end?_

The phone rang. She glanced at it. It was probably a reporter, calling for a statement of some sort. They never seemed to leave her alone.

It rang again. Maybe it wasn't a reporter, though.

"Damn." Kate picked up the receiver"Hi."

"Hello."

"Who is this?"

"This is Michael Scofield." A pause. "How are you?"

"What do you want?"

"I'm sorry about what happened." No response. "But I think you remember everything that happened that night."

"Maybe I do. But so what, Michael? So what? I just want to live my life, without any of this. I'm a surgeon; I have plenty of stuff going on without all of this."

"I understand that. But there's something you need to know."

"What?"

Michael hesitated. "It's about Linc." Silence. "He might be coming to New York in the next little bit."

"Why do you think that?"

"I saw the plane ticket."

"Oh." A pause. "Why is he coming?"

"He hasn't been the same."

"He was in prison, Michael, on death row. Not many people would be the same."

"No, not like that. He's just been off. Quiet, listless. Unenthusiastic about everything."

"So naturally you think he's coming to me."

"Look, I don't know what the hell happened when you and him were separated from the rest of us, but it's messed with him. He's not himself." Michael said heatedly. He paused, then continued, in a calmer tone. "I just wanted to give you a heads up. He thought it would be good to surprise you, but I think that would have been disastrous." Privately, she agreed. "So here's your warning."

She sighed. "Is there a time frame?"

"No, I didn't have enough time to see that. He might not go through with it. I don't think he's decided."

"Oh. Well, thanks for the warning."

"No problem."

"So, uh, how're things with you and Sara?"

"Good." She could hear him smiling.

"I read that you two were engaged."

"Yeah. Wedding's this April."

"Congratulations."

"Thanks."

"I hear you're writing a book."

"Oh, yeah. Only because the company told me that if I didn't, they were going to write an "unofficial" sort of thing, which would undoubtedly be worse than the truth."

"Uh huh."

"It's true!" He insisted.

"Whatever. Just… keep me out of it?"

"Sure."

Neither spoke for a moment. "I have to go now." Kate said, having nothing else to say.

"Okay. Yeah. Nice talking to you again."

"You too. Take care." Kate hung up the phone, and leaned against the wall of her apartment. This was never going to end.

* * *

Almost a week later, Kate was arriving home from a relatively short shift at the hospital when she saw an all-to-familiar person sitting against the wall next to her apartment. Kate froze. He hadn't seen her yet. She could walk away, and pretend she never saw him.

But instead, Kate took a deep breath, and continued on towards her apartment door. "Um…" She said, her key in her hand now.

Lincoln jumped slightly, and looked up at her. He quickly sprang to his feet. "Hey. Uh, how've you been?"

"Fine. Why are you here?" Kate demanded.

"You look good." Lincoln said. That was an understatement; he thought she looked beautiful.

"Why the hell are you here?"

"Okay, no small talk." Lincoln remarked. "I just want to talk."

"I have never met someone in my entire life who tracked someone down and got on a plane to visit them just to talk."

"I take it you remember." He said. She stared at him for a moment, before nodding. "That's good."

She shrugged. "There are things I wish I couldn't remember."

"Fair point." Lincoln paused. "Can I come in?"

"I think it would be better if we talked somewhere more neutral."

"Like where?"

"There's a coffeehouse down the street. Let's go there." Kate suggested. He nodded. "Just let me set my stuff down…" Kate unlocked her door, and stepped inside. Lincoln followed, but stayed in the living room that also served as an entry room in the small, cramped apartment. Kate retreated into her bedroom momentarily to deposit her bag. Lincoln took the opportunity to look around.

It was a small apartment, but it seemed to suit her. Having never been in somewhere she'd lived before, he was somewhat curious. It was fairly messy, but he wrote that off to her not having the time to clean it rather than a general laziness. The furnishings were assorted; most of it matched in some way, but none of it was the same. A pile of laundry was on the couch, waiting to be folded. A familiar shirt caught Lincoln's eye; it was the shirt he'd given her when Kate couldn't find her own. He was surprised that she had kept it.

Lincoln didn't give it any more thought because just then, she came out from the back. "Ready?" She asked, pulling her blond hair up into a sloppy ponytail.

"Yeah." Lincoln replied, stepping to the door. He held it open for her, which caused her to roll her eyes.

Once outside, Kate led the way downstairs, through the lobby, and down about a block until they came to a small coffee shop, called "The Caffinator". It was bustling, but despite its name it had a relaxed atmosphere. Kate made her way to the counter and ordered two beverages while Lincoln found a table in an out of the way table. She returned a few minutes later, and handed him his coffee.

"What did you want to talk about?" Kate asked, taking a sip. Lincoln shrugged. "You came all the way to New York City and you don't know what you want to talk about? Are you kidding me?"

"Well, I wanted to apologize."

"Apologize?" She sounded doubtful.

"Apologize. I feel so bad about what happened."

"About what part?"

"Everything that happened to you because of us. I don't think I told you, before. T-Bag, the bar, Kellerman." Lincoln said. He placed his hand on the table, next to hers. She lifted her hand to tuck a few stray strands of hair behind her ear, and then placed it away from his.

"Those weren't your fault." She pointed out.

"They were a result of us." Lincoln countered.

Kate glanced down. When she looked back up, she said, "It's okay."

A silence descended upon them, as they sat and drank their coffee. "So, you left Minan-Hatford." Lincoln commented, trying to make conversation.

"Yeah."

"How's your mom?" He asked.

"She died."

"Oh god, I'm sorry."

She waved off his sympathy. "She'd been fighting for a long time."

"When?"

"About a month after I… er, got back."

"I'm so sorry." He said it softer now.

She ignored it. "I sent in my application here about a month after that. I was accepted, so I moved." Kate explained, tracing the rim of her coffee mug with one finger.

"What about Adam?" Lincoln couldn't resist asking.

"We broke up. Try not to look too thrilled." Kate replied dryly, seeing his eyes light up slightly.

"Sorry. How come?"

"He was convinced there was someone else I was seeing. He thought I looked distracted. Adam became very clingy, and didn't trust me at all, so I ended it."

"Was there?"

"Was there what?" Kate asked, confused.

"Was there someone else?" Lincoln clarified.

"Oh, you know damn well what was going on!" She snapped. Kate stood abruptly, pulled her black coat on again, and stormed out of the building. A moment later, Lincoln jogged after her.

"Kate-"

"You know _exactly _what the problem was!" Kate added heatedly, continuing to walk down the street. "I cared about you Lincoln, and you completely screwed me over."

"I'm sorry." Lincoln insisted, his breath coming out in quick pants and materializing in small clouds in the cold air.

"Are you? Because I really think you were just using me."

Lincoln grabbed her arm, and pulled her towards him. He kissed her softly on the lips for several seconds. She didn't pull away. When Lincoln ended the kiss, she stayed close to him. At least, she did for almost a minute before continuing to storm off down the street.

"Kate…?" He was following her again.

"This is insane." Kate determined, stopping to face him. "This is insane! I shouldn't be feeling things for you!"

"Kate-"

"No, you get to listen! I couldn't help but do anything but plan what I would say to you if I ever met you again for two and a half years, so let me say it!" She paused, almost waiting for an argument. When he gave none, Kate continued. "I shouldn't feel anything for you! You held a gun to my back so many times I lost count!"

"Excuse me?" A woman on the street was staring at them now.

"It was an expression, lady! Mind your own business!" Kate snapped at her, starting to walk away. "You kidnapped me!" She continued, in a lower, but equally as sharp tone. "You tore me away from my life, and brought so much onto me, but for some unknown reason, I love you!"

She fell silent as they both realized what she had said. "Um… that wasn't what I planned to say…." She started, but couldn't finish.

"I'm assuming you're done for now?" Lincoln asked. She nodded, mouth slightly agape. "I'm very sorry about what happened. But at the same time, I'm going to take complete advantage of what you just said." He kissed her again, wrapping his arms around her this time. "I love you too." He murmured, between kisses

After a moment, Kate found herself again and protested. Lincoln stopped, and they started walking again in silence.

"Damn it Lincoln, this isn't fair!" She snapped suddenly, as they approached her building again. "It's not fair for you to push me away, and years later, for you to be able to come back and make me lose control like this!"

"You think my life's been peaches and cream?" Lincoln questioned, beginning to lose his temper. She looked at him, utterly lost. "I've been out of jail for three months now. I've been cleared of everything! It's all in the past. But I haven't been able to enjoy _any_ of it! I've been miserable! This should be the happiest time of my life! But nothing helps; nothing _can _help. Nothing except you."

"What do you want me to do, Lincoln?" Kate inquired, glancing up at him.

"I don't know, something!" He continued after a few seconds. "I love you, you love me, what's the problem?"

"The problem, Lincoln, is that you hurt me. I care about you, true, but I can't risk getting hurt that badly again." She replied softly, staring at him. They had stopped moving, gazing at each other.

"Kate, look." They started moving again. "In the car, when we talked, there was something I didn't tell you. I push the people I care about away. I'm good at it. I used to do it all the time, and I hurt almost everybody. Michael, my son. You. I think I'm protecting them, but all I'm doing is harming them. Now that this is all resolved," He waved a hand vaguely. "Now I don't feel the need to do that anymore. I don't feel like by being close to them, I'm risking them."

"Lincoln, I-"

"Look, just give me a chance. Please?" He was almost begging now.

She shook her head, tears appearing in her eyes. "Do you have any idea what you put me through?" She asked, voice a whisper. "Do you have any idea?"

Lincoln couldn't stand it anymore; he pulled her into a tight embrace as Kate broke down completely. She sobbed for several minutes. Lincoln got the sense that she'd been keeping this bottled up for a long time now. Probably the full two and a half years. He whispered calming things like "it'll be okay, I promise" and "I'm here now".

Eventually Kate remembered that they were standing on a sidewalk in the middle of a New York City street, and aware of the fact that some people were staring at them. Ah, for the days in New Mexico where you could go places where you'd have to drive a full day to see another person! "C'mon." She muttered, grabbing Lincoln's arm and guiding him into her building. Lincoln allowed her to lead, not saying anything, waiting for her to speak.

"I don't want to feel like that again, Lincoln." Kate said finally, calmer.

"I know."

"Things used to be so simple."

"I know."

"I don't know what to do." She admitted as they began to trudge up the stairs to her sixth floor apartment.

"I only know what I want." Lincoln said, one hand on the banister, the other resting on her elbow to steady her. She seemed to be in need of something to keep her up right then.

"What's that?" Kate asked.

"I want to give us another shot."

"Why?"

"I love you. You said you love me. Everything that was in the way before is gone." Lincoln explained.

"Everything except us."

"Yeah, well, you and I are kind of important to a relationship between us." He pointed out, smiling wryly.

"True." She conceded that. "I'm just…"

"Apprehensive?" Lincoln suggested. She nodded. "So give it a trial run. Give us a trial. If after a week or two, if you think I show any signs of pushing you away again, end it then, before we get too attached again."

Kate still looked doubtful. "We only had a week last time, and look what happened."

Lincoln considered this. It was true. "No sex."

"I beg your pardon?"

"No sex. We'll take it slow. This relationship stays out of the bed for two full weeks. After that, if we're still in it…."

"Are you serious?" She asked, pausing on the third floor landing.

"Dead serious." Lincoln replied.

"You really think that'll help?" Kate asked doubtfully.

Lincoln shrugged. "Worst case scenario, we give it a shot and it fails."

"I don't want us to fail."

"Neither do I."

"You'll really try to not push people-me- away?" Kate asked.

"I promise."

"How long are you in New York for?" She wanted to know.

"As long as I need to be." He replied, leaning in to kiss her.

Somehow they stumbled up the stairs to her apartment, barely breaking the contact. They couldn't keep their celibacy deal for the full two weeks, rather, caving in after four days. Lincoln had some of his stuff shipped to New York after almost three weeks. Three months after that, Kate accompanied Lincoln to Michael and Sara's wedding. Shortly thereafter, Kate transferred to a hospital in Chicago, and her and Lincoln moved back to Illinois. Sucre and Maricruz were married early in the summer, and all of the available remaining Fox River Eight were in attendance, among others (Sucre had been so thrilled about finally being able to marry Maricruz that he had extended an invitation to the general public the day he got out of prison. Maricruz had not been happy about that). Three years after the exposure of the Company and six years after Lincoln had been arrested for the murder of Terrence Steadman, on the same late summer night that Kate and Lincoln announced their engagement, Michael and Sara announced that they were expecting. For the first time in years, things were truly looking up for both of them.

If happily ever after ever happened in real life, this was theirs.

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So what did you think? Please review :) 


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